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THE    HOLY    FAMILY. 


A  GLANCE 


PHILOSOPHY 


BOSTON: 

BRADBURY,    SODEN    &    COMPANY. 


A     GLANCE 


AT 


PHILOSOPHY, 

MENTAL,  MORAL  AND   SOCIAL. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 


PETER   PARLEY'S   TALES. 


BOSTON: 
BRADBURY,    SODEN    AND    CO. 

MDCCCXLV. 


STEREOTYPED  BY 

GEORGE    A.    CURTIS; 

NEW  ENGLAND  TYPE  AND  STEREOTYPE  FOUNDRY, 
BOSTON. 


PRINTED  BY  WM.  A.  HALL  &  CO. 

141  Washington  Street. 


CONTENTS. 


PHRENOLOGY, .7 

The  Principles  of  Phrenology, 9 

The  Primitive  Faculties  of  Mind,  connected  with  their 

Organs  in  the  Brain, 16 

Division  or  Classification  of  the  Faculties,          .        .  18 

ORDER  I. — OF  FEELINGS,          .....  20 

Amativeness, 20 

Philoprogenitiveness,      .                         ...  20 

Inhabitiveness, 21 

Adhesiveness,         .                         ....  21 

Combativeness, 22 

Destructiveness,      . 23 

Alimentiveness,         .  ' 23 

Love  of  Life,         .'    ~ 24 

Secretiveness, .24 

Acquisitiveness,     .        ..'.'.        .        .        .  25 

Constructiveness, 26 

Self-Esteem, 27 

Love  of  Approbation,        .        .        .        .        .        .27 

Cautiousness, 28 

Benevolence,      .        .        .        .        .29 

Veneration, 30 

Firmness,  .        .        . 30 

Conscientiousness,          .        .     -   .        .        .        .  31 

Hope,         .        . 33 

Wonder, 33 

Ideality, 34 

Imitation, 36 


IV  CONTENTS. 

ORDER  II. — INTELLECTUAL  FACULTIES,         .        .        .36 

External  Senses,    .        .        .        .        .        .'•'"".  37 

Individuality,     . 37 

Form,     .        .        .                .        .        .    '•-•*-•       .  38 

Size,  .        .        .-,.... 39 

"Weight, 40 

Coloring, ,        ,        .41 

Locality,        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .  42 

Number, 42 

Order,    . 43 

Eventuality, 44 

Time, 45 

Tune, 46 

Language, jg&        .        .  47 

Knowing  Organs,       .        .        .       'ffjf   .        .        .47 

Comparison, .        .  49 

Causality,  .        . 50 

General  Observations, 51 

MENTAL  PHILOSOPHY,        V  '   *.       '.        .        .        .        .59 

General  View  of  the  Faculties  of  the  Mind,    .        .  61 

Of  the  Sensitive  Power, 62 

Of  the  Retentive  Powers, 63 

Of  the  Associative  Power, 66 

Of  the  Motive  Power, 67 

Of  the  Memory, 70 

Of  the  Imagination, 73 

Of  the  Understanding,     { 74 

LOGIC, 79 

Of  Terms,  and  the  Operations  of  the  Mind,       .        .  79 

Of  Propositions, 82 

Of  Arguments, 83 

Fallacies  or  Sophisms, 85 

Induction, 88 

Inference  and  Proof, 90 

Verbal  and  Real  Questions, 91 

Demonstration, 93 

Of  Analogy, 94 


CONTENTS.  T 

Disposition  or  Method, .96 

Concluding  Remarks, 97 

LANGUAGE, 98 

Specimens  of  Languages,          ......  Ill 

RHETORIC, 115 

Periods, 130 

Offences  against  Brevity  and  Energy,  .  .  .  131 
Digression,  Transition  and  Amplification,  .  .  .  1-33 

Elegance, 134 

Sublimity,          .        .        .        .        .        .        .        ,134 

MORAL  PHILOSOPHY, 136 

Of  Duty  or  Moral  Obligation, 137 

Of  the  Distinctions  of  Duty  and  Virtue,          ,        .142 

Man's  Duty  to  Himself, 143 

Duties  toward  Society, 144 

Patriotism, 149 

Duties  of  the  American  Citizen,  ....  152 
Duties  toward  God, 160 

NATURAL  THEOLOGY, .       166 

A  GOD  proved  from  the  Structure  of  Birds,        .        .  175 

Other  Proofs  of  a  Deity, 178 

Skill  of  the  Creator  proved  from  the  Structure  of  Ani- 
mals,           •    .        .        .      191 

The  Argument  from  the  Peculiar  Organization  of  cer- 
tain Animals, 194 

The  Argument  from  the  Preparations  beforehand  for 

the  Wants  of  Animals, 198 

The  Argument  from  the  Means  adopted  to  compen- 
sate for  Defects  in  Animal  Organization,          .      201 
The  Argument  from  Adaptation  and  Relation  to  Ani- 
mate Nature,  .        .        .  .        .        .      204 

The  Argument  from  Instinct, 206 

Benevolence  of  the  Deity, 214 

CHRISTIANITY, 220 

Man  an  Immortal  and  Moral  Being,  .  .  .220 
Mode  of  Testing  the  Authenticity  of  the  Bible,  .  232 
Inspiration  of  the  Old  Testament,  .  .  .242 


VI  CONTENTS. 

Prophecies  Fulfilled,  .        . 248 

Difficulties  Answered,     .        .  .        .        .      254 

GOVERNMENT  AND  LAWS,    -.        ...        .  .        .  259 

Origin  and  History  of  Government,  .  .  .  259 
The  Legislative  Power,  .  ..  ...  .  269 

The  Judicial  Power, 270 

The  Executive  Power, 271 

Forms  of  Government,  ......      273 

Review  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,        .  278 

Congress, 280 

The  Administration, 281 

The  President,  &c., 281 

POLITICAL  ECONOMY, 284 

Of  Production,        .        .        .        •      ##     •        .288 
Capital,      .        .        ...        .        .""''.        .        .  288 

Industry,        .        .......        .        .        .291 

Exchange, 296 

Distribution, 299 

Of  Wages,  or  the  Price  of  Labor,  .  .  .  .299 
Of  the  Price  of  Money  or  Interest,  .  .  .299 
Of  the  Price  of  Land  or  Bent, 310 

EVERY-DAY  PHILOSOPHY, 312 


A  GLANCE  AT  PHILOSOPHY, 


PHRENOLOGY. 

THIS  system,  which  by  its  advocates  is  regarded  as 
embracing  the  true  philosophy  of  the  mind,  is  not  yet 
admitted  among  the  class  of  acknowledged  sciences. 
Its  main  doctrines  are,  however,  generally  regarded 
as  true,  and  as  the  researches  of  its  propagators  have 
contributed  to  the  accumulation  of  a  large  mass  of 
accurate  observations,  it  has  doubtless  been  the  occa- 
sion of  advancing  the  cause  of  human  knowledge. 
It  may  be  also  stated,  that  phrenology  has  furnished 
us  with  a  technical  language,  applicable  to  the  various 
powers  and  faculties  of  the  mind,  which  is  of  great 
convenience,  and  enables  us  to  discuss  the  subtle  ques- 
tions of  mental  philosophy  with  greater  precision  and 
clearness. 

For  these  reasons,  we  propose  to  present  our  read- 
ers with  an  outline  of  phrenology,  such  as  it  is  repre- 
sented to  be  by  its  proselytes,*  leaving  the  reader  to 
form  his  own  conclusions  as  to  its  claims  upon  his 
belief. 

*  This  article  is  abridged  from  "  Chambers'  Information  for 
the  People,"  the  author  of  which  is  a  professed  phrenologist  of 
Edinburgh. 


8  PHRENOLOGY. 

PHRENOLOGY  is  a  Greek  compound,  signifying  a 
discourse  on  the  mind.  The  system  which  exclusively 
passes  by  this  name,  was  founded  by  Dr.  Francis 
Joseph  Gall,  a  German  physician,  born  in  1757.  Dr. 
Gall  was  led,  when  a  schoolboy,  to  surmise  a  con- 
nexion of  particular  mental  faculties  with  particular 
parts  of  the  brain,  in  consequence  of  observing  a 
marked  prominence  in  the  eyes  of  a  companion  who 
always  overmatched  him  in  committing  words  to  mem- 
ory. Finding  the  same  conformation  in  others  noted 
for  the  same  talent,  he  reflected  that  it  was  possible 
that  other  talents  might  be  accompanied  by  external 
marks,  and  that  dispositions  might  also  be  so  indi- 
cated. He  devoted  himself  to  observing  marked  fea- 
tures of  character ;  and  on  examining  the  heads,  was 
struck  with  differences  in  their  forms,  there  being 
prominences  and  hollows  in  some  not  found  in  others, 
with  corresponding  variations  of  character  in  the  indi- 
viduals. After  most  extensive  and  accurate  observa- 
tion, he  first  lectured  on  the  subject  in  Vienna  in  1796. 
There  his  lectures  were  suppressed  by  a  jealous  and 
ignorant  despotism ;  upon  which  he  abandoned  Ger- 
many and  settled  in  Paris,  where  he  practised  as  a 
physician,  and  studied  and  extended  his  "  doctrine," 
as  he  always  called  it,  till  his  death  in  1828. 

Dr.  Spurzheim,  a  native  of  Treves  on  the  Moselle, 
and  born  in  1776,  become  the  pupil,  and  from  1S04 
was  the  associate,  of  Dr.  Gall.  Besides  making  many 
valuable  discoveries  in  the  anatomy  and  physiology  of 
the  brain,  and  ascertaining  several  organs  in  addition 
to  those  discovered  by  Dr.  Gall,  Dr.  Spurzheim  had 
the  distinction  of  arranging  the  discoveries  of  both 


PHRENOLOGY.  9 

into  a  harmonious  system.  Dr.  Spurzheim  died  at 
Boston  in  the  United  States  in  1832.  Since  then,  the 
recognised  head  of  the  phrenological  school  has  been 
Mr.  George  Combe  of  Edinburgh,  author  of  many 
able  and  popular  works  on  the  science,  and  its  most 
distinguished  and  successful  teacher.  The  applications 
of  phrenology  to  insanity,  health  and  infant  treatment, 
have  been  at  the  same  time  admirably  made  by  his 
brother,  Dr.  Andrew  Combe. 

THE    PRINCIPLES    OF    PHRENOLOGY. 

The  brain  is  the  organ  by  and  through  which  MIND 
manifests  itself  in  this  life.  So  far  most  philosophers 
agree.  Indeed  the  proofs  of  this  principle  appear  to  be 
abundant.  To  all  sane  manifestations  of  mind,  brain  in 
healthy  action  is  necessary.  In  sleep,  fainting  and  com- 
pression of  the  brain,  mind  is  suspended.  In  perfect 
sleep,  the  brain  reposes,  and  mind  ceases  to  be  manifest- 
ed. Were  it  an  immaterial  spirit,  acting  independently 
of  the  brain,  the  repose  of  the  material  brain  could  not 
suspend  the  spirit's  working.  In  fainting,  the  blood 
ceases  for  the  time  to  supply  the  brain,  and  conscious- 
ness and  motion  are  suspended.  Pressure  on  the  brain 
instantly  suspends  consciousness.  The  brain,  when 
exposed,  has  been  seen  in  action,  during  emotion,  con- 
versation, dreams,  &c.  Sir  Astley  Cooper,  referring 
to  the  case  of  a  young  man  who  had  lost  a  portion 
of  skull  above  the  eyebrow,  says,  "  I  distinctly  saw 
the  pulsation  of  the  brain  ;  it  was  regular  and 
slow;  but  at  this  time  he  was  agitated  by  some 
opposition  to  his  wishes,  and  directly  the  blood  was 
sent  with  increased  force  to  the  brain,  and  the  pulsa- 


10  PHRENOLOGY. 

tions  became  frequent  and  violent.  If,  therefore,  you 
omit  to  keep  the  mind  free  from  agitation,  your  other 
means  (in  the  treatment  of  injuries  of  the  brain)  will 
be  unavailing."  Blumenbach  saw  a  portion  of  exposed 
brain  to  sink  in  sleep,  and  swell  when  the  patient 
awoke.  Dr.  Pierquin,  and  a  writer  in  the  Medico- 
Chirurgical  Review,  adduce  other  instances  of  the 
brain  swelling  out  in  waking  hours,  and  still  more  in 
mental  agitations.  In  these,  such  as  pain,  fear,  anger, 
the  dressings  were  disturbed,  and  the  brain  throbbed 
tumultuously.  The  cause  is  obvious  :  increased  activ- 
ity of  brain,  as  of  muscle,  is  accompanied  by  increased 
flow  of  blood  to  the  part.  Dr.  Pierquin  cites  a  case 
which  is  instructive.  His  subject  was  a  female,  twenty- 
six  years  of  age,  who  had  lost  a  large  portion  of  the 
skull  and  dura  mater,  so  that  a  corresponding  portion 
of  the  brain  was  laid  bare.  When  she  was  in  a  dream- 
less sleep,  her  brain  was  motionless,  and  lay  inside  the 
cranium ;  when  her  sleep  was  imperfect,  her  brain 
moved  and  protruded ;  in  vivid  dreams,  the  protrusion 
was  considerable  ;  and  when  awake,  and  particularly 
when  engaged  in  conversation  or  mental  action,  it  was 
still  greater,  and  remained  so  while  conversation  lasted. 

Common  feeling  refers  the  mind  to,  or  localizes  it 
in,  the  head ;  and  common  phrases  are  in  accordance 
with  this  conviction.  We  have  long-headed,  shallow- 
paled,  crack-brained,  well  furnished  with  brain.  &cc. : 
as  expressions  in  every  one's  mouth. 

From  the  above  facts,  phrenologists  assume  : — 1st, 
As  there  is  no  vision  or  hearing  without  their  respec- 
tive organs,  the  eye  and  ear,  so  there  is  no  thinking  or 
feeling,  without  their  respective  organs  in  the  brain ; 


PHRENOLOGY.  11 

2,  Every  mental  affection  must  correspond  with  a  cer- 
tain state  of  the  organ,  and  tice  versa  ;  3d,  The  perfec- 
tion of  the  mind  will  have  relation  to  the  perfection  of 
its  organs.  The  study  of  the  cerebral  organs,  therefore, 
is  the  study  of  the  mind,  in  the  only  condition  in  which 
we  can  cognize  it. 

The  brain  being  the  general  organ  of  the  mind,  we 
come  next  to  inquire  whether  it  is  all  necessary  to 
every  act  of  feeling  or  thinking ;  or  wheAer  it  is  di- 
vided into  parts,  each  part  being  the  instrument  or  or- 
gan of  a  particular  mental  act.  1st,  It  is  a  law  of  or- 
ganization that  different  functions  are  never  performed 
by  the  same  organ.  The  stomach,  liver,  heart,  eyes, 
ears,  have  each  a  separate  duty.  Different  nerves  are 
necessary  to  motion,  feeling  and  resistance,  and  there 
is  no  example  of  confusion  amongst  them.  Analogy, 
therefore,  is  in  favor  of  the  conclusion  that  there  are 
distinct  organs  for  observing,  reflecting  and  feeling 
kindness,  resentment,  self-love,  &c.  2d,  The  mental 
powers  do  not  all  come  at  once,  as  they  would,  were 
the  brain  one  indivisible  organ.  They  appear  succes- 
sively, and  the  brain  undergoes  a  corresponding 
change.  3d,  Genius  varies  in  different  individuals ; 
one  has  a  turn,  as  it  is  called,  for  one  thing,  and 
another  for  something  different.  4th,  Dreaming  is  ex- 
plained by  the  doctrine  of  distinct  organs  which  can 
act  or  rest  alone.  Its  disjointed  images  and  feelings 
could  never  occur  if  the  brain  acted  as  a  whole.  Un- 
divided, it  must  either  all  sleep  or  all  wake ;  so  that  there 
could  be  no  such  thing  as  dreaming.  5th,  Partial  in- 
sanity, or  madness  on  one  point,  with  sanity  on  every 
other,  proves  the  distinction  of  organs,  and  their  sepa- 


12  PHRENOLOGY. 

rate  action.  6th,  Partial  injuries  of  the  brain,  affect- 
ing the  mental  manifestations  of  the  injured  parts,  but 
leaving  the  other  faculties  sound,  prove  distinctiveness 
of  organs.  7th,  There  could  be  no  such  state  of  mind 
as  the  familiar  one  where  our  feelings  contend,  and 
antagonize  and  balance  each  other,  if  the  brain  were 
one  organ. 

These  are  grounds  for  presuming  that  the  brain  is 
not  unique,  but  a  cluster  of  organs,  or  at  least  that  it 
is  capable  of  acting  in  parts  as  well  as  in  whole.  For 
this  conclusion,  the  phrenologists  have  found  satisfac- 
tory proofs  in  repeated  observations,  showing  that  par- 
ticular manifestations  of  mind  are  proportioned,  in 
intensity  and  frequency  of  recurrence,  to  the  size  or 
expansion  of  particular  parts  of  the  brain,  and  are  thus 
to  be  presumed  to  depend  on  those  parts.  It  is  con- 
sidered by  them  as  a  settled  point,  that  the  brain  con- 
sists of  a  congeries  of  organs.  It  is  a  necessary  result 
of  the  same  investigations,  and  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant doctrines  of  phrenology,  that  the  power  of  each 
organ,  in  other  words,  its  degree  of  mental  manifesta- 
tion, is  in  direct  proportion  to  its  size.  This  is  a  law 
everywhere  seen  affecting  organic  nature ;  a  large 
muscle,  the  conditions  of  health,  quality,  and  outward 
circumstances,  being  the  same,  has  more  power  than  a 
small  one.  The  same  rs  true  of  a  nerve.  Dogs  have 
very  large  nerves  for  smelling,  eagles  for  seeing,  &c. 
A  child's  brain  is  smaller,  and  its  mental  power 
weaker,  than  those  of  an  adult.  A  very  small  brain 
in  an  adult  is  the  invariable  cause  of  idiocy.  Dr.  Gall 
observed  that  a  head  not  measuring  more  in  horizontal 
circumference  than  fourteen  inches,  is  always  idiotic. 


PHRENOLOGY.  13 

A  large  head  may  be  idiotic  from  cerebral  disease,  but 
a  very  small  head,  from  defect  of  size  alone,  is  always 
idiotic.  Men  of  great  force  of  character,  such  as  Na- 
poleon, Franklin,  Burns,  had  all  brains  of  unusually 
large  size. 

Powerful  energetic  nations  exceed  weaker  ones  in 
size  of  head,  and  invariably,  when  brought  into  collis- 
ion with  them,  overcome  them.  The  Gothic  or  Teu- 
tonic head  is  larger  than  the  Celtic,  which  last  race 
first  occupied  Europe,  but  was  driven  by  the  Gothic 
into  the  mountainous  regions,  where  it  was  not  worth 
the  pains  to  follow  it.  The  average  European  head 
is  to  the  average  Hindoo  as  the  head  of  a  man  to  that 
of  a  boy  ;  and  hence  the  conquest  and  subjection  of  a 
hundred  millions  of  the  latter  by  thirty  thousand  of  the 
former.  Indeed,  the  doctrine  of  size  of  brain  accom- 
panying power  of  character,  is  now  generally  admitted 
by  the  opponents  of  phrenology. 

The  general  law,  then,  being  that  size  of  organ  is 
accompanied  by  power  of  manifestation,  we  proceed  to 
inquire,  secondly,  if  there  are  any  circumstances,  and 
what  these  are,  which  modify  this  law.  It  will  be 
found  that  quality  of  brain  is  a  modifying  circum- 
stance, also  health  of  brain,  and  exercise  of  brain. 

1.  Phrenologists  conjectured  that  different  brains 
differ  in  quality,  but  were  long  without  any  indications 
of  these  differences.  The  doctrine  of  the  Temper- 
aments has  thrown  considerable,  though  not  perfect 
light  on  this  point,  and  for  this  we  are  indebted  to  Dr. 
Thomas  of  Paris.  There  are  four  temperaments,  ac- 
companied with  different  degrees  of  power  and  activity, 
in  other  words,  quality  of  brain.  These  are  the  bilious, 


14  PHRENOLOGY. 

the  nervous,  the  sanguine,  and  the  lymphatic.  These 
temperaments  were  observed  and  distinguished  long 
before  the  discovery  of  phrenology,  though  to  little 
purpose. 

The  nervous  temperament  is  marked  by  silky  thin 
hair,  thin  skin,  small  thin  muscles,  quick  muscular 
motion,  paleness,  and  often  delicate  health.  The 
whole  nervous  system,  brain  included,  is  active,  and 
the  mental  manifestations  vivacious.  It  is  the  temper- 
ament of  genius  and  refinement.  The  bilious  has 
black,  hard  and  wiry  hair,  dark  or  black  eyes,  dark 
skin,  moderate  fullness,  but  much  firmness,  of  flesh, 
with  a  harsh  outline  of  countenance  and  person.  The 
bilious  temperament  gives  much  energy  of  brain  and 
mental  manifestation,  and  the  countenance  is  marked 
and  decided  ;  this  is  the  temperament  for  enduring 
much  mental  as  well  as  bodily  labor.  The  sanguine 
temperament  has  well-defined  forms,  moderate  plump- 
ness and  firmness  of  flesh,  light  or  red  hair,  blue  eyes, 
and  fair  and  often  ruddy  countenance.  It  is  accom- 
panied with  great  activity  of  the  blood-vessels,  an  ani- 
mated countenance,  and  a  love  of  out-door  exercises. 
With  a  mixture  of  the  bilious — for  in  most  individuals 
the  temperaments  are  mixed,  often  all  four  occurring 
in  one  person — it  would  give  the  soldier's  temper- 
ament. The  brain  is  active.  The  lymphatic  temper- 
ament is  indicated  by  a  round  form,  as  in  the  fat  and 
corpulent,  soft  flesh,  full  cellular  tissue,  fair  hair  and 
pale  skin.  The  vital  action  is  languid,  the  circulation 
weak  and  slow.  The  brain  also  is  slow  and  feeble  in 
its  action,  and  the  mental  manifestations  correspond. 

2.  The  brain  must  be  in  a  sound,  healthy  condition. 


PHKEXOLOGT.  15 

to  manifest  itself  properly  in  the  mental  faculties.  In 
judging  of  character  the  phrenologist  must  inquire  into 
this  circumstance,  as  the  external  development  does 
not  reveal  it. 

3.  Exercise — or  whether  or  not,  and  how,  the  brain 
has  been  exercised — is  another  condition  to  be  inquir- 
ed into  before  judging  of  two  individuals  similarly  or- 
ganized. The  brain  which  has  been  the  more,  and 
more  judiciously,  exercised,  will  manifest  the  greater 
degree  of  activity  and  power.  The  law  of  exercise  is 
of  universal  application  to  animals,  if  not  to  organiza- 
tion in  general.  A  muscle  or  nerve  is  strengthened 
by  exercise ;  and  a  tree  or  plant  by  the  motion  given 
it  by  the  wind.  Over-exercise  injures  the  brain.  It 
is  only  another  mode  of  inquiring  into  the  circumstance 
of  exercise  of  brain,  when  a  phrenologist  asks  what 
opportunities  of  education  an  individual  has  enjoyed, 
and  to  what  kind  of  society  he  has  been  accustomed. 
To  this  information  he  is  entitled  in  judging  of  char- 
acter, for  the  head  alone  will  not  reveal  it. 

If  size  of  organ  implies  vigor  of  function,  it  is  of 
great  moment  in  what  region  of  the  brain  the  organs 
are  largest — whether  in  the  animal,  moral  or  intellec- 
tual. On  this  preponderance  depends  the  character. 
Two  brains  may  be  exactly  alike  in  size,  generally, 
yet  the  characters  may  be  perfect  contrasts  to  each 
other.  If  the  organs  predominate  in  the  moral  region, 
the  leading  manifestations  will  probably  be  of  a  vir- 
tuous character ;  if  in  the  intellectual,  talent  will  be 
the  probable  consequence  ;  if  in  the  animal,  there  will 
be  tendencies  accordingly. 


16  PHRENOLOGY. 

THE  PRIMITIVE  FACULTIES  OF  MIND,  AS  CONNECTED  WITH 
THEIR  ORGANS  IN  THE  BRAIN. 

Mind,  which  was  considered  by  the  metaphysicians 
as  a  single  thing  or  essence,  was  said  by  them  to  be 
capable  of  being  in  different  states,  in  each  of  which 
states  it  made  one  of  its  various  manifestations,  as 
memory,  judgment,  anger,  &c.  In  no  particular  does 
the  phrenological  hypothesis  differ  more  from  the 
metaphysical  than  in  this.  The  phrenological  doctrine 
is,  that  the  brain,  the  organ  of  the  mind,  is  divided  into 
various  faculties,  each  of  which  has  its  own  modes  of 
acting.  It  is  held — 

First,  That  by  accurate  observation  of  human  ac- 
tions, it  is  possible  to  discriminate  the  dispositions  and 
intellectual  power  of  man,  such  as  love,  anger,  benev- 
olence, observation,  reflection,  &c. 

Secondly,  That  the  true  form  of  the  brain  can  be 
ascertained  from  the  external  form  of  the  head ;  the 
brain,  though  the  softer  substance,  being  what  rules 
the  shape  of  the  skull,  just  as  the  shell  takes  its  form 
from  the  animal  within. 

Thirdly,  The  organs  or  parts  into  which  the  brain 
is  divided,  all  of  which  organs  are  possessed  by  every 
individual  except  in  the  case  of  idiocy,  appear  on  the 
brain's  surface  in  folds  or  convolutions,  somewhat  like 
the  bowels  or  viscera  of  an  animal,  but  have  a  well- 
ascertained  fibrous  connection  through  the  whole  sub- 
stance of  the  brain  with  one  point  at  its  base,  called 
the  medulla  oblongata,  which  unites  the  brain  to  the 
spinal  cord.  The  organs  have  thus  each  a  conical 
form  from  the  medulla  oblongata  to  the  surface ;  the 
whole  being  not  inaptly  compared  to  the  stalks  and 
flower  of  a  cauliflower. 


PHRENOLOGY.  17 

Fourthly,  The  brain  is  divided  into  two  equal  parts 
called  hemispheres;  on  each  side  of  the  fosse  or  division 
between  these  hemispheres  the  same  organ  occurs  ; 
all  the  organs  are  therefore  double,  in  analogy  with 
the  eyes,  ears,  &c.  But  when  the  term  organ  is  used, 
both  organs  are  meant.  The  organs  which  are  situated 
close  to  the  middle  line  vertically  drawn  on  the  head, 
though  close  to  each  other,  are  nevertheless  double  ;  for 
example,  Individuality,  Benevolence,  Firmness,  &c. 

Fifthly,  Besides  the  brain  proper,  their  is  a  smaller 
brain,  attached  to  the  hinder  part  of  the  base  of  the 
brain,  called  the  cerebellum. 

Sixthly,  The  brain,  including  the  cerebellum,  is  di- 
vided into  the  anterior,  middle  and  posterior  lobes. 
The  cerebellum  forms  a  part  of  the  posterior  lobe. 
The  anterior  lobe  contains  all  the  intellectual  faculties  ; 
the  posterior  and  lower  range  of  the  middle  lobe  are 
the  regions  of  the  animal  propensities  ;  while  the  moral 
sentiments  are  found,  with  a  sort  of  local  preeminence, 
to  have  their  organs  developed  on  the  top  or  coronal 
surface  of  the  head. 

The  gradation  in  size  of  the  organs  is  thus  denoted : 


Very  Small. 
Small. 
Rather  Small 


Moderate. 
Rather  Full. 
Full. 


Rather  Large. 
Large. 
Very  Large. 


We  have  said,  the  larger  the  brain,  and  of  course  the 
head,  the  more  the  power.  The  old  adage,  "  Big  head, 
little  wit"  is  often  true,  but  not  always.  It  is  true 
when,  with  a  large  brain  there  is  a  lymphatic  tempera- 
ment, or  when  some  damaging  or  deranging  circum- 
stance has  taken  place,  to  deprive  the  brain  of  its  nat- 
ural power,  or  when  the  largeness  is  not  in  the  intel- 
lectual region.  It  is  to  be  remarked,  however,  that  even 
B 


18  PHRENOLOGY. 

large  animal  brains  have  great  animal  power,  in  spite 
of  their  intellectual  deficiency.  A  moderate-sized 
head,  of  which  the  brain  is  chiefly  in  the  anterior  or 
intellectual  region,  will  have  much  more  wit  or  clever- 
ness than  the  other.  Its  power  will  be  intellectual. 

DIVISION  OR  CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  FACULTIES. 

The  faculties  have  been  divided  by  Gall  and  Spurz- 
heim  into  two  great  orders — FEELING  and  INTELLECT, 
or  AFFECTIVE  and  INTELLECTUAL  FACULTIES.  The 
Feelings  are  divided  into  two  genera — the  Propen- 
sities and  the  Sentiments.  By  a  propensity  is  meant 
an  internal  impulse,  which  incites  to  a  certain  action, 
and  no  more  ;  by  a  sentiment,  a  feeling  which, 
although  it  has  inclination,  has  also  an  emotion  super- 
added. 

The  second  order  of  faculties,  the  Intellectual,  also 
suffers  division  into  the  Perceptive  or  Knowing,  and 
the  Reflective  Faculties.  The  Perceptive  Faculties 
are  again  divided  into  three  genera — 1st,  the  Exter- 
nal Senses  and  Voluntary  Motion;  2d,  the  Internal 
Poivers  tvhich  perceive  existence,  or  make  man  and 
animals  acquainted  with  external  objects  and  their 
physical  qualities ;  and,  3d,  the  Powers  which  per- 
ceive the  relations  of  external  objects.  The  fourth 
genus  comprises  the  Reflective  Faculties,  which  act 
on  all  the  other  powers  ;  in  other  words,  compare,  dis- 
criminate and  judge. 

The  following  is  a  representation  of  a  bust  of  the 
human  head  in  four  points  of  view — front,  side,  back 
and  top — with  the  organs  marked  by  numbers ;  and 
there  follows  a  table  of  the  names  of  the  organs  synop- 
tically  given,  before  we  proceed  to  describe  each  faculty 
as  related  to  its  organ. 


PHRENOLOGY. 


19 


AFFECTIVE. 


I. — PROPENSITIES. 

1.  Amativeness. 

2.  Philoprogenitiveness. 

3.  Inhabit! veness  and  Con- 

centrativeness. 

4.  Adhesiveness. 

5.  Combativeness. 

6.  Destructiveness. 
[Alimentiveness.] 
[Love  of  Life.] 

7.  Secretiveness. 

8.  Acquisitiveness. 

9.  Constructiveness. 


II. — SENTIMETTTS. 

10.  Self-Esteem. 

11.  Love  of  Approbation. 

12.  Cautiousness. 

13.  Benevolence. 

14.  Veneration. 

15.  Firmness. 

16.  Conscientiousness. 

17.  Hope. 

18.  Wonder. 

19.  Ideality. 

20.  Wit,  or  Ludicrousness. 

21.  Imitation. 


PHRENOLOGY. 
INTELLECTUAL. 


I. — PERCEPTIVE. 

22.  Individuality. 

23.  Form. 

24.  Size. 

25.  Weight. 

26.  Coloring. 

27.  Locality. 

28.  Number. 


29.  Order. 

30.  Eventuality. 

31.  Tune. 

32.  Time. 

33.  Language. 

II. — REFLECTIVE. 

34.  Comparison. 

35.  Causality. 


ORDER  FIRST.— FEELINGS. 

GENUS  I. PROPENSITIES. 

The  propensities  are  common  to  man  and  the  lower 
animals ;  they  neither  perceive  nor  reason,  but  only 
feel. 

No.  1. — Amativeness. 

This  organ — marked  No.  1  on  the  bust — is  situated 
immediately  over  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and  fills  up 
the  space  between  the  ears  behind,  or  rather  between 
the  mastoid  processes,  or  projecting  bones  behind  the 
ears.  It  generally  forms  a  projection  in  that  part,  and 
gives  a  thickness  to  the  neck  when  it  is  large,  and 
a  spareness  when  small.  The  cerebellum,  or  little 
brain,  is  or  at  least  contains  the  organ  of  this  propen- 
sity. 

No.  2. — Philoprogenitiveness. 

This,  in  man  as  well  as  animals,  is  the  feeling  of 
the  love  of  offspring.  It  depends  on  no  other  faculty, 
as  reason  or  benevolence  ;  it  is  primitive  ;  and  in  the 
mother,  who,  for  wise  reasons,  is  gifted  with  it  most 
strongly,  its  object,  the  infant,  instantly  rouses  it  to  a 
high  state  of  excitement.  The  feeling  gives  a  tender 


PHRENOLOGY.  21 

sympathy  generally  with  weakness  and  helplessness  ; 
and  we  find  it  often  returned  by  the  young  themselves 
to  the  old  and  feeble.  It  is  essential  to  a  soft  kind  at- 
tendant on  the  sick,  to  a  nurse  or  nursery-maid,  and 
to  a  teacher  of  youth.  It  induces  women  to  make 
pets  of  small  and  gentle  animals,  when  tyrant  circum- 
stances have  kept  them  single,  and  denied  them  off- 
spring of  their  own.  Its  feelings  are,  by  a  kind  Prov- 
idence, rendered  so  delightful,  that  they  are  extremely 
apt  to  be  carried  the  length  of  excess ;  and  spoiling 
and  pampering  children,  into  vicious  selfishness,  is 
sometimes  the  ruinous  consequence. 

No.  3. — Inhabitiveness — Concentrativeness. 
This  organ  is  situated  immediately  above  the  pre- 
ceding. It  prompts  men  to  settle  instead  of  roaming, 
which  latter  habit  is  inconsistent  with  agriculture, 
commerce  and  civilization ;  nostalgia,  or  home-sick- 
ness, is  the  disease  of  this  feeling. 

No.  4. — Adhesiveness. 

This  organ  attaches  men,  and  even  animals,  to  each 
other,  and  is  the  foundation  of  that  pleasure  which  we 
feel,  not  only  in  bestowing,  but  receiving  friendship. 
It  is  the  only  faculty  which  prompts  the  embrace  and 
the  shake  by  the  hand,  and  gives  the  joy  of  being  re- 
united to  friends.  Acting  in  conjunction  with  Ama- 
tiveness,  it  gives  constancy  and  duration  to  the  attach- 
ment of  the  married.  Amativeness  alone  will  not  be 
found  sufficient  for  this.  Hence  the  frequent  misery 
of  sudden  love-marriages,  as  they  are  called,  founded 
on  that  single  impulse.  The  feeling  attaches  many 
persons  to  pets,  such  as  birds,  dogs,  rabbits,  horses, 


iSS  PHRENOLOGY. 

and  other  animals,  especially  when  combined  with 
Philoprogenitiveness.  With  this  combination,  the  girl 
lavishes  caresses  on  her  doll  and  on  her  little  com- 
panions. Added  to  Nos.  1,  2  and  3,  with  which  it  is 
in  immediate  contact  and  ascertained  fibrous  connection 
in  the  brain,  it  completes  what  has  been  called  the  do- 
mestic group  of  organs,  or  the  love  of  spouse,  children, 
home,  and  the  friends  of  home,  as  brothers,  sisters, 
cousins,  &c.  These  domestic  feelings  bind  the  dwell- 
ers under  the  same  roof  to  each  other  faster  than 
chains  of  brass.  The  finger  of  God  is  here,  benev- 
olently, effectually,  beautifully ;  for  he  has  made  the 
bond  not  irksome,  but  exquisitely  delightful.  Some  of 
our  ballads  express  Adhesiveness  with  much  beauty. 
"  John  Anderson,  my  jo,"  and  "  There 's  nae  luck 
about  the  house  when  our  gudeman  's  awa',"  are  most 
touching  examples.  The  feeling  is  strongest  in  wo- 
man. Her  friendships,  generally  speaking,  are  more 
ardent  than  man's.  The  faculty  is  not  kindness  or 
benevolence ;  it  is  instinctive  attachment,  often  felt  by 
those  who  are  selfish  in  everything  else — selfish  even 
in  their  attachments.  It  is  the  faculty  which  prompts 
man  to  live  in  society ;  and  its  existence  overturns 
the  absurd  theory  of  Rousseau  and  some  others,  that 
man  is  solitary,  and  that  mutual  interest  alone  brings 
men  to  congregate  with  their  fellow-men. 

No.  5 — Combativeness. 

The  organ  of  this  propensity  extends  its  functions 
to  contention  in  general,  whether  physical  or  moral. 
The  condition  of  the  physical  world,  full  of  difficulties 
and  dangers,  seems  in  itself  to  make  it  necessary  that 
man  should  possess  a  faculty  giving  the  impulse  to 


PHRENOLOGY.  23 

meet  boldly,  and  press  vigorously  through,  such  im- 
pediments. In  the  mingled  scene,  also,  which  forms 
the  moral  world,  such  an  impulse  is  not  less  needed. 
It  is  easy,  therefore,  to  reconcile  with  our  ideas  of  di- 
vine wisdom  and  goodness  the  existence  of  this  vehe- 
ment quality  of  our  nature,  the  true  intent  of  which  is 
expressed  in  the  well-known  adage  of  the  bard — "  Do 
not  give  way  to  evils,  but  go  the  more  daringly  against 
them." 

No.  6. — Destructiveness. 

This  organ  is  generally  considered  as  giving  the 
impulse  to  kill  and  destroy ;  but,  in  man,  this  propen- 
sity is  shown  to  have,  under  the  control  of  the  higher 
sentiments  and  intellect,  a  legitimate  sphere  of  exer- 
cise. Those  roughnesses  and  difficulties  in  the  phys- 
ical world  which  have  been  shown  to  call  for  the  exer- 
cise of  combativeness,  that  man  may  not  sink  under 
them,  also  appear  to  call  for  a  faculty  which  may 
prompt  to  the  destroying  or  repressing  of  them,  so  that 
the  way  may  be  cleared  for  the  future.  The  annoy- 
ances and  troubles  of  the  moral  world  call  in  like 
manner  for  a  faculty  which  may  be  always  endeavor- 
ing to  put  an  end  to  them. 

Alimentiveness,  or  Appetite  for  Food. 

Alimentiveness  is  the  desire  of,  or  appetite  for,  food. 
In  this  feeling  as  such  the  stomach  is  not  concerned  ; 
its  functions  are  strictly  confined  to  the  reception  and 
digestion  of  our  food.  But,  that  the  mind  is  concerned 
in  our  desire  of  food,  is  proved  by  many  circumstances. 
This  desire  often  continues  after  the  stomach  is  over- 
loaded ;  it  often  prompts  to  a  fullness  and  frequency  of 
feeding,  which  must  be  in  the  highest  degree  incon- 


24  PHRENOLOGY. 

venient  to  the  digesting  organ.  The  nausea  created 
in  the  sick  by  the  idea  of  food — the  rush  of  saliva  to 
the  mouth  of  the  gourmand,  on  hearing  a  description 
of  rich  dishes — must  alike  be  the  effect  of  mental  emo- 
tions. 

Love  of  Life. 

The  self-preservation  involved  in  the  love  of  life  is 
certainly  not  accounted  for  by  any  known  organ  or 
combination  of  organs.  Cautiousness  is  fear  of  injury, 
fear  of  death ;  but  it  is  not  love  of  life.  This  feeling 
is  powerfully  manifested  by  some  when  their  life  is  in 
no  danger,  but  who  look  upon  the  close  of  life  as  a 
very  great  evil.  Others  are  so  indifferent  on  the  sub- 
ject as  scarcely  to  care  whether  they  live  or  die,  but 
for  the  disagreeable  effect  the  contemplation  of  death 
has  upon  their  other  faculties — such  as  leaving  chil- 
dren unprovided,  &c.  The  French  phrenologists 
think  they  have  discovered  the  organ  immediately 
above  the  sphenoid  bone  ;  but  their  facts  are  too  few 
and  uncertain  to  be  proceeded  upon  with  confidence. 
No.  7. — Secretiveness. 

The  legitimate  use  of  this  faculty  is  to  exercise  that 
control  over  the  outward  manifestation  of  the  other 
faculties,  which  is  necessary  to  a  prudent  reserve. 
Without  it,  and  of  course  in  those  in  whom  the  organ 
is  small  and  the  manifestation  weak,  the  feelings  ex- 
press themselves  too  openly.  Such  individuals  "  wear 
their  hearts  upon  their  sleeves,  for  daws  to  peck  at." 
They  are  too  open  and  unsuspecting,  and  often  all 
good  taste  and  propriety  are  lost  sight  of  by  them,  in 
the  exposure  of  their  feelings.  Society  would  be  in- 
supportable were  there  no  secretiveness.  There  is  an 


PHRENOLOGY.  ZO 

amusing  fairy  tale  called  the  Palace  of  Truth,  design- 
ed to  show  how  truly  this  is  the  case.  We  may  con- 
sider secretiveness  as  an  instinct  to  conceal  the  feelings 
or  thoughts,  till  reason  shows  it  to  be  prudent  to 
declare  them. 

In  abuse,  this  faculty  leads  to  lying,  hypocrisy  and 
fraud.  When  acting  with  Acquisitiveness,  it  forms  the 
thief,  cheat  and  swindler.  The  organ  is  almost  always 
found  large  in  these  persons;  and  they  have  been 
known  to  say  that  they  have  great  pleasure  in  the  se- 
cretive part  of  their  profession.  All  ruses  and  strata- 
gems are  exercises  of  secretiveness.  The  faculty,  in 
combination  with  the  Love  of  Approbation,  occasions 
much  of  the  hypocritical  insincerity  of  civilized  so- 
ciety. 

We  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Richard  Carmichael  of 
Dublin  for  a  report  of  the  singular  case  of  Anne  Ross. 
This  girl,  to  gain  the  favor  and  charity  of  some  pious 
ladies,  thrust  needles  into  her  arm  to  produce  disease, 
and  went  the  length  of  submitting  to  amputation  with- 
out revealing  the  truth.  On  dissecting  the  arm  the 
needles  were  found,  a  circumstance  which  appeared  to 
distress  her  much  more  than  the  loss  of  her  arm.  Mr. 
Combe  saw  this  extraordinary  girl  in  Dublin,  and 
found  both  Secretiveness  and  Firmness  large  in  her 
head. 

No.  8. — Acquisitiveness. 

This  faculty,  the  love  of  acquiring,  even  beyond  what 
is  immediately  necessary  or  useful,  could  not  be  given 
to  man  for  a  mean,  grovelling  and  immoral  use  ;  accord- 
ingly, when  we  consider  it  aright,  we  recognize  in  it  an 


26  PHRENOLOGY. 

organ  of  the  greatest  importance.  In  a  word,  it  is  the 
faculty  through  whose  impulse  man  accumulates  cap- 
ital, and  nations  are  rendered  rich,  great  and  powerful. 
Without  the  faculty,  man  would  be  content  to  satisfy  his 
daily  wants,  although  even  in  this  he  would  fail ;  but 
the  surplus  which,  under  the  impulse  of  this  faculty, 
he  contributes  to  the  store  of  wealth  which  accumu- 
lates from  generation  to  generation,  would  not  exist. 
Under  proper  regulation,  then,  the  faculty  is  of  the 
greatest  value  to  man  ;  by  means  of  it  he  "  gathers  up 
the  fragments,  that  nothing  may  be  lost."  Excessive 
pursuit  of  wealth  is,  however,  an  abuse  of  this  faculty, 
and  too  much  the  vice  of  civilization,  when  it  advances, 
as  it  has  sometimes  done,  without  adequate  moral  im- 
provement. 

The  faculty  is  often  diseased,  so  that  those  who  are 
insane  in  this  organ,  without  any  temptation  arising 
from  their  circumstances,  which  are  often  above  want, 
and  even  prosperous,  pilfer  everything  of  value,  or 
of  no  value,  which  comes  in  their  way.  Many  in- 
corrigible thieves  in  lower  life,  on  whom  the  punish- 
ments of  the  law  fail  to  have  any  effect,  are  diseased 
in  this  organ. 

No.  9. — Construct! veness. 

The  faculty  of  which  this  organ  is  the  instrument, 
is  the  power  of  mechanically  making,  constructing  and 
fashioning,  by  changing  the  forms  of  matter.  Many 
of  the  inferior  animals  possess  it ;  as  the  bee,  the  bea- 
ver, birds  and  insects.  Some  savages  have  it  in  such 
small  endowment  as  never  to  have  built  huts  or  made 
clothes,  or  even  the  simplest  instruments  for  catching 


PHRENOLOGY.  27 

fish.  Such  are  the  New  Hollanders,  in  whom  the  or- 
gan appears  very  slightly  developed.  Drs.  Gall  and 
Spurzheim  verified  this  organ  by  a  vast  number  of 
instances- — in  mechanicians,  architects,  designers, 
sculptors,  and  even  painters. 


GENUS  II.— SENTIMENTS. 

I.  SENTIMENTS  COMMON  TO  MAN  AND  THE  LOWEE  ANIMALS. 
No.  10.— Self-Esteem. 

The  legitimate  use  of  the  faculty  of  Self-Esteem,  or 
Self-Love,  is  that  degree  of  self-complacency  which 
enhances  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  which  gives  the  in- 
dividual confidence  in  his  own  powers,  and  leads  him 
to  apply  them  to  the  best  advantage.  It  is  sometimes 
called  proper  pride,  or  self-respect,  in  which  form  it 
aids  the  moral  sentiments  in  resisting  temptations  to 
vice  and  self-degradation  :  this  is  called  being  above 
doing  a  criminal,  a  vicious,  or  a  mean  action.  Its  de- 
ficiency renders  an  individual  too  humble,  and  the 
world  take  him  at  his  word,  and  push  him  aside.  In 
large  and  uncontrolled  endowment,  it  produces  great 
abuses,  and  causes  much  annoyance  and  often  misery 
to  others.  It  is  the  quarrelling,  insulting,  domineer- 
ing, tyrannizing,  duelling  faculty.  In  children  it  is 
pettishness,  frowardness  and  self-will,  and  produces 
disobedience.  In  adults,  it  gives  arrogance,  super- 
ciliousness and  selfishness.  In  nations,  the  feeling 
shows  itself  in  national  pride  and  boasting. 

No.  11. — Love  of  Approbation. 

This  is  the  desire  of  approbation,  admiration,  praise 
and  fame.  Its  legitimate  function  is  regard  to  reputa- 


28  PHRENOLOGY. 

tion  and  character,  and  it  gives  the  sentiment  of  shame. 
It  is  an  excellent  guard  upon  morals  as  well  as  man- 
ners. The  loss  of  character  to  those  largely  endowed 
with  this  feeling,  is  worse  than  death.  If  the  moral 
sentiments  be  strong,  this  sentiment  will  desire  honest 
fame,  and  in  the  line,  too,  of  the  prevailing  faculties — 
as  poet,  painter,  orator,  warrior,  statesman.  The  love 
of  glory  is  a  passion  with  many,  and  has  deluged  the 
world  with  blood  in  all  ages.  The  decorations,  orders, 
stars,  garters,  of  civilization,  and  the  tattooing,  nose- 
boring  and  pluming,  of  savage  life,  all  spring  from  Love 
of  Approbation.  When  the  propensities  predominate, 
the  vain  man  will  be  pleased  to  be  thought  the  best 
fighter  or  greatest  drinker  among  his  acquaintance. 
A  due  endowment  of  this  faculty  is  essential  to  an 
amiable  character. 

No.  12.— Cautiousness. 

This  organ  stimulates  the  intellect  to  take  the  means 
of  ensuring  safety  :  its  motto  is,  "  Take  care."  It  is 
an  important  element  in  prudence,  which  places  the 
individual  on  his  guard,  and  warns  him  not  to  be  rash 
in  his  moral  as  well  as  his  physical  movements.  In 
general,  the  organ  is  large  in  children,  a  wise  and  be- 
nificent  provision  for  their  protection.  Children  who 
are  deficient  in  the  organ  suffer  constant  mishaps  and 
accidents;  twenty  keepers  will  not  supply  to  them 
the  place  of  the  instinctive  protection  of  Cautiousness. 

II.    SUPERIOR    SENTIMENTS,    PROPER    TO    MAN. 

We  have  hitherto  considered  the  faculties  which 
phrenologists  describe  as  common  to  man  and  the  lower 


PHRENOLOGY.  29 

animals  ;  we  are  now  to  treat  of  those  superior  senti- 
ments which  they  consider  as  peculiar  to  man.  The 
organs  of  these  sentiments  lie  in  the  superior  region  of 
the  brain. 

No.  13. — Benevolence. 

The  faculty  of  Benevolence  gives  more  than  com- 
passion for,  and  a  desire  to  relieve,  suffering ;  it  gives 
a  wish  that  others  should  be  positively  happy  ;  prompts 
to  active,  laborious  and  continued  exertions ;  and, 
unless  Acquisitiveness  be  very  large  and  powerful,  to 
liberal  giving  to  promote  its  favorite  object.  It  differs 
essentially  in  its  charity,  "  which  suffereth  long  and  is 
kind,"  "  and  vaunteth  not  itself,"  from  that  which 
springs  from  Love  of  Approbation.  Yet  to  this  last 
selfish  faculty,  how  often  is  it  necessary  to  appeal 
when  funds  are  wanted  for  benevolent  purposes  ! 
Hence  the  published  lists  of  subscribers'  names  ;  hence, 
too,  the  appeals  to  other  selfish  faculties  by  balls, 
fairs,  &c.,  for  contributions  to  relieve  suffering,  as  if 
it  were  to  be  charmed  away  by  dancing  and  music. 
The  Samaritan's  conduct  was  pure  benevolence. 
Addison  pourtrayed  the  feeling  well  in  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley.  All  the  phrenological  books  cite  the  case 
of  Eustache,  a  St.  Domingo  negro,  who  was  so  strik- 
ing an  example  of  this  faculty  in  great  power  and  ac- 
tivity that  he  received  the  prize  of  virtue  from  the 
French  Institute.  The  organ  in  him  was  so  large  as 
to  give  an  uncommon  height  to  the  front  of  his  head. 
The  faculty,  like  sunshine,  lights  as  well  as  warms 
the  whole  of  social  intercourse. 


30  PHRENOLOGY. 

No.  14. — Veneration. 

The  organ  of  this  faculty  occupies  the  centre  of  the 
coronal  region  just  at  the  fontanel — the  centre  of  the 
top  of  the  head.  It  was  discovered  by  Dr.  Gall  in  the 
pious  and  devout ;  and  is  very  obvious  in  the  bald 
head  of  the  monk  of  real  sentiment  and  not  of  mere 
interest.  The  function  of  the  faculty  is  the  sentiment 
of  veneration,  or  deference  in  general  for  superiority, 
for  greatness  and  goodness.  Its  highest  object  is  the 
Deity.  It  is  remarkable  in  how  many  instances  the 
painters  of  sacred  subjects  have  given  large  develop- 
ment of  this  organ  in  the  heads  of  their  apostles  and 
saints — no  doubt,  because  the  pious  individuals  whom 
they  would  naturally  select  as  studies  for  such  char- 
acters, possessed  the  organ  large.  Veneration  has  no 
special  object :  it  finds  appropriate  exercise  with  re- 
gard to  whatever  is  deemed  superior. 

No.  15. — Firmness. 

The  organ  of  this  faculty  occupies  the  top  of  the 
head,  behind  Veneration,  in  the  middle  line.  It  is  a 
faculty  of  peculiar  character.  Dr.  Gall  held  that  it 
was  neither  an  inclination  nor  a  power,  but  a  maniere 
d'etre — a  mode  of  existing,  or  being  firm,  resolute  and 
determined.  He  who  is  deficient  in  the  faculty  is  the 
sport  of  circumstances  and  impressions.  Dr.  Spurz- 
heitn  says  that  Firmness  is  apt  to  be  mistaken  for 
Will,  because  those  that  have  the  organ  large  are 
prone  to  say,  "  I  will,"  and  "  I  won't,"  that  being  the 
natural  language  of  determination  ;  but  the  feeling  is 
quite  different  from  what  is  properly  called  the  Will. 
It  gives  fortitude,  constancy,  perseverance  and  deter- 


PHRENOLOGY.  31 

mination :  and  when  too  powerful,  it  produces  obsti- 
nacy, stubbornness  and  infatuation.  The  organ  will 
be  found  large  in  obstinate  and  intractable  children. 
Firmness  has  no  relation  to  external  objects  ;  its  influ- 
ence is  within  the  mind,  and  adds  a  quality  of  endur- 
ance to  each  or  all  of  the  other  faculties.  For  exam- 
ple, it  renders  Combativeness  determined  bravery ; 
Conscientiousness  inflexible  integrity,  and  so  with  the 
others.  With  Self-Esteem,  it  renders  the  individual 
absolutely  impracticable.  The  want  of  it  is  a  great 
defect  in  character  ;  it  is  unsteadiness  of  purpose. 

No.  16. — Conscientiousness. 

The  organ  of  this  sentiment  is  situated  on  each  side 
of  the  organ  of  Firmness,  between  the  latter  organ  and 
that  of  Cautiousness.  Dr.  Spurzheim  discovered  the 
organ,  and  thereby  incalculably  benefited  mental  and 
moral  science.  Previously,  metaphysicians  differed  in 
opinion  as  to  the  existence  of  a  moral  sense — a  primi- 
tive instinctive  feeling  of  truth  and  justice.  Hobbes 
and  Mandeville  held  justice  to  be  mere  selfish  calcula- 
tion. Even  Paley  considered  it  as  influenced  by  the 
hope  of  eternal  reward,  and  therefore  no  better  than  a 
selfish  calculation.  Adam  Smith  placed  the  standard 
of  moral  approbation  in  sympathy,  Hume  in  utility, 
Clarke  in  the  fitness  of  things';  while  Hutcheson,  Cud- 
worth,  Kames,  Reid,  Stewart  and  Brown,  all, contend 
for  a  faculty  which  produces  the  sentiment  of  right 
and  wrong,  independently  of  all  other  considerations. 
Mr.  Combe  says  that  these  conflicting  theories  will 
serve  ",to  convey  some  idea  of  the  boon  which  phre- 
nology would  confer  upon  moral  science,  if  it  could  fix 


32  PHRENOLOGY. 

on  a  firm  basis  this  single  point  in  the  philosophy  of 
mind — that  a  power  or  faculty  exists,  the  object  of 
which  is  to  produce  the  sentiment  of  justice  or  the 
feeling  of  duty  and  obligation,  independently  of  selfish- 
ness in  any  form,  hope  of  reward,  fear  of  punishment, 
or  any  extrinsic  motive ;  a  faculty,  in  short,  the  natu- 
ral language  of  which  is,  '  Fiat  justitia  mat  ccelum.' 
Phrenology  does  this  by  a  demonstration  founded  on 
numerous  observations,  that  those  persons  who  have 
the  organ  now  under  consideration  large,  experience 
powerfully  the  sentiment  of  justice  ;  while  those  who 
have  that  part  of  the  brain  small,  are  little  alive  to  the 
emotion." 

Conscientiousness  gives  the  emotion  of  justice,  but 
intellect  is  necessary  to  show  on  which  side  justice 
lies.  The  judge  must  hear  both  sides  before  deciding, 
and  his  very  wish  to  be  just  will  prompt  him  to  do  so. 
This  faculty  regulates  all  the  other  faculties  by  its  rigid 
rules.  It  says  to  them,  "  thus  far  and  no  farther,  or 
you  will  do  injustice."  Benevolence  and  Veneration 
themselves  require  its  guardianship,  to  prevent  the  one 
from  running  into  generosity  without  justice,  the  other 
into  bigotry,  fanaticism  and  persecution.  Conscien- 
tiousness not  only  curbs  our  faculties  when  too  power- 
ful, but  stimulates  those  that  are  too  weak  and  prompts 
us  to  duty  even  against  strorg  inclinations.  To  cul- 
tivate it  in  children  is  most  important.  No  organiza- 
tion, however  favorable,  compensates  a  want  here  ;  yet 
phrenologists  are  forced  to  confess  that  it  is  not  the 
largest  organ  in  the  great  majority  of  brains,  and 
hence  the  injustice  that  is,  silently  as  well  as  openly, 
at  work  in  society. 


PHRENOLOGY. 


No.  17.— Hope. 

Dr.  Spurzheim  considered  Hope  a  faculty  sui  gen- 
eris, producing  hope,  in  general,  of  good,  or  gratifica- 
tion to  the  other  faculties ;  and,  by  careful  observation  in 
nature,  found  the  organ  in  the  situation  marked  in  the 
engraving.  It  seems  to  have  been  given  to  man  to 
make  him  happy.  It  produces  gaiety  and  cheerfulness, 
looks  on  the  sunny  side  of  everything,  and  paints  the 
future  with  bright  colors.  When  not  regulated  by  the 
intellect,  Hope  leads  to  rash  speculation,  and,  in  com- 
bination with  Acquisitiveness,  to  gambling,  both  at  the 
gaming-table  and  in  the  counting-house.  It  tends  to 
render  the  individual  credulous,  and  often  indolent. 
In  religion,  Hope  leads  to  faith,  and  strongly  disposes 
to  belief  in  a  happy  life  to  come. 

No.  18.— Wonder. 

The  organ  of  this  faculty  is  situated  on  each  side 
of  that  of  Benevolence,  with  one  other  organ,  that  of 
Imitation,  interposed.  Technically,  it  has  its  place  in 
the  lateral  parts  of  the  anterior  region  of  the  vertex. 
Dr.  Gall  discovered  it  by  observing  it  large  in  the  seers 
of  visions  and  dreamers  of  dreams,  and  in  those  who 
loved  the  marvellous.  Socrates,  Tasso,  Joan  of  Arc 
and  Swedenborg,  were  examples.  The  two  first  be- 
lieved they  were  attended  by  a  familiar  spirit.  Swe- 
denborg believed  and  declared  that  he  was  admitted  to 
the  presence  of  God  in  heaven,  to  receive  a  revelation 
of  the  true  religion.  Joan  of  Arc  related  that  she  saw 
St.  Michael,  and  received  from  him  her  commission  to 
raise  the  siege  of  Orleans,  and  enthrone  Charles  VII. 
as  king.  There  are  many  other  examples  in  the  phre- 
c 

' 


34  PHRENOLOGY. 

nological  books.     In  modern  times,  Joan  of  Arc  would 
have  been  held  to  be  a  fanatic. 

Persons  with  the  faculty  powerful  are  fond  of  news, 
especially  if  striking  and  wonderful,  and  are  always 
expressing  astonishment ;  their  reading  is  much  in  the 
regions  of  the  marvellous,  tales  of  wonder,  of  enchant- 
ers, ghosts  and  witches.  When  the  sentiment  is  ex- 
cessive or  diseased,  it  produces  that  peculiar  fanaticism 
which  attempts  miracles,  and  with  Language  active, 
speaks  with  unknown  tongues.  It  draws  the  ignorant 
and  fanatically-inclined,  who  have  the  organ  large, 
with  ease  by  its  pretensions  ;  hence  the  numerous  fol- 
lowers of  Johanna  Southcote,  Courtenay  or  Thorn,  and 
Edward  Irving. 

No.  19.— Ideality. 

Dr.  Gall  called  this  the  organ  of  Poetry.  Dr.  Spurz- 
heim  corrected  this,  and  gave  it  the  elegant  name  it 
now  bears  ;  which  has,  as  well  as  others  of  the  expres- 
sive names  of  the  phrenological  organs,  been  adopted 
into  ordinary  language.  He  says — "  It  is  impossible 
that  poetry  in  general  should  be  confined  to  one  single 
organ,  and.  I  therefore  think  that  the  name  '  Organ  of 
Poetry,'  does  not  indicate  the  essential  faculty.  In 
every  kind  of  poetry  the  sentiments  are  exalted,  the 
expressions  warm ;  and  there  must  be  rapture,  inspi- 
ration, and  what  is  commonly  called  imagination  or 
fancy." 

The  faculty  delights  in  the  perfect,  the  exquisite,  the 
lean-ideal — something  beyond  the  scenes  of  reality — 
something  in  the  regions  of  romance  and  fancy — of 
the  beautiful  and  the  sublime.  Those  writers  and 


PHRENOLOGY.  35 

speakers  who  possess  it  large,  adorn  all  they  say  or 
write  with  its  vivid  inspirations.  It  is  the  organ  of 
imagery.  The  sermons  of  Chalmers  owe  much  of 
their  charms  to  it,  and  the  organ  is  very  large  in  his 
head.  Shakspeare  created  such  beings  as  Ariel,  Ob- 
eron,  and  all  the  imaginings  of  the  "  Tempest,"  and 
"  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  under  its  influence. 
Prospero's  speech,  when  he  abjures  the  art  of  magic 
and  breaks  his  staff,  is  unequalled  as  a  specimen  of 
Ideality.  The  passage  is  well  known — 

"I  have  bedimined 

The  noontide  sun,  called  forth  the  furious  winds, 
And  'twiit  the  green  sea  and  the  azure  vault 
Set  roaring  war,"  &c. 

The  faculty  renders  conversatiou  elevated,  animated 
and  eloquent,  the  opposite  of  dry  and  dull. 

No.  20. — Wit,  or  the  Ludicrous. 

The  phrenological  writers  have  discussed  at  great 
length,  and  with  not  a  little  controversy,  the  metaphys- 
ical nature  or  analysis  of  this  faculty.  We  do  not 
need  to  follow  them  into  this  inquiry,  as  most  of  them 
are  agreed  that,  by  means  of  this  faculty,  we  see  and 
enjoy  the  ludicrous,  and  experience  the  emotion  of 
laughter.  Man  is  the  only  laughing  animal,  and  the 
impulse  and  its  result  are  too  well  marked  character- 
istics not  to  be  the  manifestations  of  a  special  faculty. 
Dr.  Beattie's  theory  is  the  most  satisfactory  of  any — 
that  the  objects  of  the  ludicrous  are  incongruities,  with 
a  certain  mixture  of  congruity.  When  the  butcher 
put  his  wig  on  his  dog's  head  in  the  pit  of  the  theatre, 
that  he  might  wipe  his  heated  brow,  Garrick  was  so 


36  PHRENOLOGY. 

tickled  with  the  incongruity,  mixed,  be  it  observed, 
•with  the  congruity  of  a  wig  belonging  to  a  head,  that 
he  ran  off  the  stage  to  conceal  his  laughter.  When 
this  organ  is  large,  the  individual  both  enjoys  and 
creates  the  ludicrous,  and  is  apt  to  give  a  ludicrous 
turn  to  everything  that  passes  through  his  mind. 

No.  21. — Imitation. 

This  organ  is  situated  on  each  side  of  that  of  Be- 
nevolence. Dr.  Gall  found  the  protuberance  accom- 
panied by  instinctive  and  often  irrepressible  mimicry. 
A  deaf  and  dumb  boy  had  this  power  quite  uncon- 
sciously. 


ORDER  SECOND.— INTELLECTUAL  FACULTIES. 

By  these  faculties  man  and  animals  perceive  or  gain 
knowledge  of  the  external  world,  and  likewise  of  their 
own  mental  operations.  The  object  of  the  faculties  is 
to  know  what  exists,  and  to  perceive  qualities  and  re- 
lations. Dr.  Spurzheim  divided  them  into  three  gen- 
era:— 1.  The  External  Senses;  2.  The  Internal  Senses, 
or  Perceptive  Faculties,  which  procure  knowledge  of 
external  objects,  their  physical  qualities  and  relations  ; 
3.  The  Reflecting  Faculties. 

From  the  great  length  to  which  our  observations  on 
the  Feelings  have  extended,  and  from  the  more  meta- 
physical nature  of  the  analysis  of  the  Intellectual  Pow- 
ers, we  must  be  more  brief  in  our  exposition  of  them 
— referring  to  the  phrenological  books  for  a  fuller 
treatment  of  this  branch  of  the  subject. 


PHRENOLOGY.  37 

- 
GENUS  I. EXTERNAL  SENSES. 

By  these,  man  and  the  inferior  animals  are  brought 
into  communication  with  the  external  material  world. 
These,  as  generally  received,  are  five  in  number — 
Touch,  Taste,  Smell,  Hearing  and  Sight.  It  has 
been  suggested  that  there  are  two  more,  namely,  the 
sense  of  Hunger  and  Thirst,  and  the  Muscular  sense, 
or  that  by  which  we  feel  the  state  of  our  muscles  as 
acted  upon  by  gravitation  and  the  resistance  of  matter. 
Ii  is  argued  that  without  this  last  sense  we  could  not 
keep  our  balance,  or  suit  our  movements  to  the  laws 
of  the  mechanical  world.  Dr.  Thomas  Brown  con- 
jectured this  sense  many  years  ago,  and  Sir  Charles 
Bell  has  thrown  much  light  on  it  by  proving  that  sepa- 
rate roots,  afterward  joining  in  one  apparent  nerve,  but 
evidently  being  two,  give  muscular  motion  and  muscu- 
lar sensation.  There  is  reason,  therefore,  to  hold  that 
the  senses  are  not  five,  but  seven  in  number. 

GENUS    II. INTELLECTUAL   FACULTIES,    WHICH   PROCURE 

KNOWLEDGE  OF  EXTERNAL    OBJECTS,  OF    THEIR   PHYSI- 
CAL QUALITIES  AND  VARIOUS  RELATIONS. 

These  faculties  correspond  in  some  degree  with  the 
perceptive  powers  of  the  metaphysicians,  and  form  ideas. 

No.  22.— Individuality. 

The  organ  of  this  faculty  takes  cognizance  of  indi- 
vidual existences — of  a  horse,  for  example.  Other 
knowing  faculties  respectively  observe  the  form,  color, 
size  and  weight  of  the  horse,  but  a  faculty  was  neces- 
sary to  unite  all  these,  and  give  the  individual  idea  of 
a  horse.  It  furnishes  the  substratum  which  has  form, 
color,  &c.  Individuality  is  the  storehouse  of  know- 


. 

t 
38  PHRENOLOGY. 

ledge  of  things  that  simply  exist.  It  is  often  large 
without  being  accompanied  by  reflecting  power ;  when 
this  is  the  case,  the  individual  has  been  compared  to 
an  encyclopedia,  full  of  facts,  but  unable  to  reason 
from  them.  All  the  objects  of  Individuality  are  noun 
substantives.  Verbs  and  adjectives  are  the  perceptions 
of  other  faculties  to  be  afterwards  noticed.  As  Indi- 
viduality merely  observes  existences  without  regard  to 
their  modes  of  action,  it  is  the  faculty  of  the  naturalist. 
Those  who  possess  it  large  and  active,  observe  the  mi- 
nutest objects ;  nothing  escapes  them,  and  they  remem- 
ber even  the  minutest  objects  so  well,  that  they  will 
miss  them  when  taken  away.  On  the  contrary,  those 
who  have  it  small,  observe  nothing,  and  give  the  most 
imperfect  account  of  the  objects  which  have  been  in 
their  way.  In  the  artist,  the  faculty  gives  great  mi- 
nuteness of  detail,  and,  with  Imitation  and  Form, 
great  power  of  hitting  likenesses  in  portrait-painting. 
The  faculty  prompts  to  personification  of  abstract  ideas, 
as  Fame,  Envy,  Wisdom,  Folly. 

No.  23.— Form. 

This  organ  is  situated  on  each  side  of,  and  close  to, 
the  crista  galli,  and  occupies  the  space  between  the 
eyes.  In  those  who  have  it  large,  the  eyes  are  wide 
asunder,  and  vice  versa.  Dr.  Gall  discovered  the  or- 
gan in  persons  remarkable  for  recognizing  faces  after 
long  intervals,  and  although,  perhaps,  only  once  and 
briefly  seen.  The  bust  of  George  III.  furnishes  the 
best  example  in  the  Phrenological  Society's  collection ; 
and  it  is  well  known  that  he  never  forgot  a  face. 
Townsend,  the  famous  Bow-street  officer,  had  the 
same  talent,  one  most  essential  to  his  office.  As  every 


PHRENOLOGY.  39 

material  object  must  have  a  form,  regular  or  irregular, 
this  faculty  was  given  to  man  and  animals  to  perceive 
forms,  and  they  could  not  exist  without  it.  When 
large,  it  constitutes  an  essential  element  in  a  talent  for 
drawing,  but  requires  Size  and  Constructiveness  to 
perfect  the  talent.  Forms  are  capable  of  great  beauty, 
and  of  affording  much  pleasure,  and  in  nothing  more 
than  in  the  human  figure. 

No.  24.— Size. 

Every  object  has  a  size  or  dimension.  Hence  a 
faculty  is  necessary  to  perceive  this  quality.  The  or- 
gan is  situated  at  the  inner  extremities  of  the  eye- 
brows, where  they  turn  upon  the  nose.  A  perception 
of  Size  is  important  to  our  movements  and  actions,  and 
essential  to  our  safety.  There  is  no  accuracy  in  draw- 
ing or  perspective  without  this  organ.  A  singular  in- 
stance of  a  defect  in  the  power  of  perceiving  perspec- 
tive, accompanied  with  a  small  organ  of  Size,  is  men- 
tioned by  Mr.  Combe. 

"  Mr.  Ferguson,  tutor  in  the  family  of  Sir  George 
Mackenzie,  stated  that  he  had  a  difficulty  in  '  under- 
standing a  landscape'  in  a  picture,  and  explained  that 
'  it  appeared  to  him  to  present  a  group  of  objects  on  a 
plain  surface,  without  any  perceptible  fore  or  back 
ground.'  He  attributed  this  defect  in  his  perceptions 
to  his  not  having  been  taught  the  rules  of  perspective 
at  school.  In  the  course  of  farther  interrogation,  he 
stated  that  he  sees  the  forms  of  objects  distinctly,  as 
also  their  colors  ;  that  he  likes  brilliant  tints  best,  and 
that  in  nature  he  perceives  distances  also.  He  has 
visited  Koslin  (in  the  neighborhood  of  Edinburgh), 


40  PHRENOLOGY. 

and  not  only  perceived  the  beauty  which  characterizes 
that  delicious  spot,  but  enjoyed  it  with  a  keen  relish. 
He  has  also  seen  many  pieces  of  Highland  scenery, 
and  been  delighted  with  them.  Rivers,  meadows, 
trees  and  cultivated  ground  are,  however,  the  objects 
which  interest  him  most.  On  turning  his  back  upon 
any  natural  landscape,  or  shutting  his  eyes,  his  recol- 
lections instantly  become  very  confused.  He  is  not 
able  to  recall  to  his  mind  the  '  relative  positions '  of  the 
objects,  while  he  distinctly  recollects  the  pleasing  im- 
pressions which  they  made  upon  him  ;  this  remem- 
brance does  not  soon  fade."  Mr.  Ferguson's  organs 
of  Ideality,  Wonder  and  Intellect,  are  good ;  but  his 
Size,  Form  and  Locality,  are  all  deficient.  His  de- 
scription of  his  experience  looks  very  like  a  defect  in 
all  three.  Sir  George  Mackenzie  thinks  that  the  fac- 
ulty of  Size,  as  it  perceives  dimension  of  every  kind, 
whether  in  length,  breadth,  thickness,  height,  depth, 
or  distance,  is  that  faculty  whereby  we  perceive  space 
in  general,  analogous  to  the  faculty  of  Time,  by  which 
we  perceive  time.  Different  individuals  manifest  dif- 
ferent degrees  of  the  power  of  perceiving  size. 

No.  25.— "Weight. 

Weight  is  a  quality  of  matter  quite  distinct  from  all 
its  other  qualities.  The  weight  of  any  material  object 
is  only  another  name  for  its  degree  of  gravitating  ten- 
dency— its  attractibility  to  the  earth.  A  power  to 
perceive  the  different  degrees  of  this  attraction  is  es- 
sential to  man's  movements,  safety,  and  even  exist- 
ence. There  must,  it  is  said,  be  a  faculty  for  this, 
and  that  faculty  must  have  a  cerebral  instrument. 


PHRENOLOGY.  41 

Phrenologists  have  generally  localized  that  organ  in 
the  super-orbitar  ridge  or  eyebrow,  immediately  next 
to  Size,  and  farther  from  the  top  of  the  nose.  But  as 
yet  the  function  of  the  Organ  25  has  given  rise  to  so 
much  discussion,  as  to  leave  it  far  from  certain  what 
that  precisely  is.  Mr.  Combe  says,  "  Persons  who 
excel  at  archery  and  quoits,  and  also  those  Avho  find 
great  facility  in  judging  of  momentum  and  resistance 
in  mechanics,  are  observed  to  possess  the  parts  of  the 
brain  lying  nearest  to  the  organ  of  Size  largely  devel- 
oped; and  the  organ  is  now  regarded  as  probable. 
Persons  in  whom  Individuality,  Size,  Weight  and  Lo- 
cality are  large,  have  generally  a  talent  for  engineer- 
ing, and  those  branches  of  mechanics  which  consist 
in  the  application  of  forces ;  they  delight  in  steam-en- 
gines, water-wheels  and  turning-lathes. 

No.  26.— Coloring. 

As  every  object  must  have  a  color,  in  order  to  be 
visible,  it  seems  necessary  that  there  should  be  a  fac- 
ulty to  perceive  this  quality.  The  organ  is  the  next 
outwards  from  Weight  in  the  eyebrows,  occupying  the 
precise  centre  of  each  eyebrow.  A  hollow  there,  into 
which  the  end  of  the  finger  could  be  put,  or  such  a 
flatness  in  the  ridge  of  the  eyebrow  that  a  perpendicu- 
lar line  dropt  from  it  would  pass  through  the  eyeball, 
has,  times  without  number,  been  found  to  be  accom- 
panied by  a  want  of  power  to  discriminate  colors, 
often  to  a  ludicrous  extent.  A  mercer's  apprentice, 
who  used  to  offer  red  to  match  green,  was  dismissed 
as  unfit  for  his  trade.  The  organ  is  large  in  great 
painters,  especially  great  colorists,  and  gives  an  arched 


42  PHRENOLOGY. 

- 

appearance  to  the  eyebrow;  for  example  in  Rubens, 
Titian,  Rembrandt,  Salvator  Rosa,  Claude  Lorraine, 
and  others.  A  large  endowment  of  the  organ  gives 
great  delight  in  flowers  and  brilliant  coloring  of  all 
kinds. 

No.  27. — Locality. 

Dr.  Gall  was  led  to  the  discovery  of  this  faculty  as 
primitive,  by  comparing  his  own  difficulties  with  a 
companion's  facilities,  in  finding  their  way  through  the 
woods,  where  they  had  placed  snares  for  birds,  and 
marked  ne^ts,  when  studying  natural  history.  Every 
material  object  must  exist  in  some  part  of  space,  and 
that  part  of  space  becomes  place  in  virtue  of  being  so 
occupied.  Objects  themselves  are  cognized  by  Indi- 
viduality ;  but  their  place,  the  direction  where  they 
lie,  the  way  to  them,  depend  on  another  faculty,  a  fac- 
ulty given  for  that  purpose.  Without  such  a  power, 
men  and  animals  must,  in  situations  where  objects 
were  numerous  and  complicated  in  their  positions,  as 
woods,  have  lost  their  way.  No  man  could  find  his 
own  home,  no  bird  its  own  nest,  no  mouse  its  own 
hole.  The  use  of  the  faculty  will  be  rendered  plain 
by  considering  what  it  is  we  do  when  we  wish  to  re- 
member our  way  through  the  streets  of  a  large  city ; 
we  note  particular  objects,  buildings,  for  example,  and 
observe  how  they  stand  in  relation  to  each  other,  and 
these  relations  we  can  remember,  although  with  a  faint 
recollection  of  the  forms  of  the  objects  themselves. 

No.  28. — Number. 

The  organ  of  this  faculty  is  placed  at  the  outer  ex- 
tremity of  the  eyebrows  and  angle  of  the  eye.  It  oc- 


PHRENOLOGY.  43 

casions,  when  large,  a  fullness  or  breadth  of  the  tem- 
ple, and  often  draws  downwards  the  external  corner 
of  the  eye.  When  it  is  small,  the  part  is  flat  and  nar- 
row between  the  eye  and  the  temple.  Their  number 
is  a  very  important  relation  or  condition  of  things,  and 
requires  a  distinct  perceptive  power.  Our  safety,  and 
even  existence,  may  depend  on  a  clear  perception  of 
Number.  Dr.  Gall  called  the  faculty,  "  Le  Sens  de 
Nombres"  "  The  Sense  of  Numbers,"  and  assigned  to 
it  not  only  arithmetic,  but  mathematics  in  general. 
Dr.  Spurzheim  more  correctly  limits  its  functions  to 
arithmetic,  algebra  and  logarithms  ;  geometry  being  the 
exercise,  as  already  shown,  of  other  faculties. 

No.  29.— Order. 

The  organ  of  this  faculty  is  placed  in  the  eyebrow, 
between  Coloring  and  Number,  and  is  large  and 
prominent,  and  often  pointed  like  a  limpet-shell,  in 
those  who  are  remarkable  for  love  of  method,  arrange- 
ment and  symmetry,  and  are  annoyed  by  confusion 
and  irregularity.  The  marked  love  of  order  in  some 
persons,  and  their  suffering  from  disorder,  are  feelings 
which  no  other  faculty,  or  combination  of  faculties, 
seems  to  embrace.  Several  cases  are  mentioned  in 
the  phrenological  books,  where  it  characterized  idiots, 
deficient  in  almost  every  other  faculty.  An  idiot  girl 
in  Edinburgh  would  not  enter  her  brother's  room, 
which  was  always  in  confusion;  and  Dr.  Spurzheim 
mentions  the  Sauvage  de  1'Aveyron,  who  replaced 
everything  instinctively  which  others,  often  purposely 
to  try  him,  disarranged.  Mr.  L.,  a  late  medical  gen- 
tleman in  Edinburgh,  was  remarkable  for  the  organ 


44  PHRENOLOGY. 

and  its  manifestation.  He  was  pointed  in  his  engage- 
ments— for  the  faculty  gives  this  important  habit — neat 
and  careful  in  his  writings,  regular  in  his  accounts, 
precise  in  his  dress,  and  cleanly  in  his  person ;  the 
last-mentioned  habit  being  likewise  one  manifestation 
of  order.  The  faculty  was  hereditary  in  that  gentle- 
man ;  for  his  father  was  so  precise  in  his  arrange- 
ments, that  on  one  occasion,  having  put  his  penknife 
into  a  wrong  pocket,  he  would  not  for  some  time  be 
persuaded  to  try  any  other  than  what  he  held  to  be  the 
right  one.  He  yielded,  however,  at  last,  and  was 
much  disconcerted  when  he  found  the  unwontedly 
mirplaced  article.  In  savages,  whose  habits  are  slov- 
enly, filthy  and  disgusting,  like  the  Esquimaux,  the 
organ  is  small.  When  we  consider  the  abridgment 
and  facilitation  of  our  labor  which  result  from  arrange- 
ment, we  can  see  a  purpose  in  the  endowment  of  this 
faculty.  We  doubt  not  that  a  more  extended  and 
careful  analysis  may  discover  for  it  yet  more  important 
functions.  This  organ  is  well  established. 

No.  30. — Eventuality. 

The  organ  of  this  faculty  is  situated  in  the  very- 
centre  of  the  forehead,  and  when  large,  gives  to  this 
part  of  the  head  a  rounded  prominence.  Individuality 
has  been  called  the  faculty  of  nouns ;  Eventuality  is 
the  faculty  of  verbs.  The  first  perceives  mere  exist- 
ence ;  the  other  motion,  change,  event,  history.  All 
knowledge  must  be  of  one  or  the  other  of  these  two 
descriptions — either  things  that  are  or  things  that  hap- 
pen. In  the  following  examples — the  MAN  speaks,  the 
WIND  lloivs,  the  DAY  dawns,  the  nouns  cognized  by  In- 

• 


PHRENOLOGY.  45 

dividuality  are  printed  in  capitals,  while  the  verbs, 
addressed  to  Eventuality,  are  in  italics.  The  first  is 
simple  existence ;  the  other  is  action,  event,  history. 
Dr.  Gall  distinguished,  as  the  metaphysicians  do,  ver- 
bal memory,  local  memory,  real  memory.  It  is  now 
phrenological  doctrine  that  all  the  intellectual  faculties 
have  their  own  memory.  Form  remembers  forms ; 
Color  colors  ;  Size  dimensions ;  Individuality  objects  - 
Eventuality  actions;  Tune  music;  Comparison  re 
semblances  and  analogies ;  Causality  logical  reasons. 

No.  31.— Time. 

Whatever  be  the  essence  of  time  as  an  entity,  it  is 
a  reality  to  man,  cognizable  by  a  faculty  by  which  he 
observes  its  lapse.  Some  persons  are  called  walking 
time-pieces ;  they  can  tell  the  hour  without  looking  at 
a  watch ;  and  some  even  can  do  so,  nearly,  when  wak- 
ing in  the  night.  The  faculty  also  marks  the  minute 
divisions  of  duration,  and  their  relations  and  harmo- 
nies, which  are  called  time  in  music,  and  rhythm  in 
versification.  The  impulse  to  mark  time  with  the 
head,  hands,  feet  and  whole  body,  is  too  common,  too 
natural  and  too  strong,  not  to  be  the  result  of  a  faculty ; 
it  is  the  impulse  to  dance,  almost  universal  in  both 
savage  and  civilized  man ;  and  its  existence  settles  the 
question  with  the  "  Friends,"  of  the  innocence  or  sin- 
fulness  of  dancing.  In  some,  the  impulse,  when  well- 
marked  time  is  offered — the  better  if  combined  with 
music,  though  a  well-beat  drum  may  be  danced  to — 
is  often  irresistible.  It  exists  in  a  diseased  state,  for 
we  have  seen  dancing  madmen. 


m 

40  PHRENOLOGY. 

No.  32.— Tune. 

The  organ  of  this  faculty  is  situated  still  farther  out 
than  that  of  Time,  giving  a  roundness  to  the  point 
where  the  forehead  turns  to  form  the  temples.  It  is 
large  in  great  musicians ;  and  when  small  and  hollow, 
there  is  an  utter  incapacity  to  distinguish  either  melo- 
dy or  harmony.  The  organ  is  sometimes  diseased. 
A  young  lady,  a  patient  of  Dr.  Cornbe's,  was  seized 
with  an  irresistible  craving  for  music,  which  haunted 
even  her  dreams,  and  she  complained  of  pain  in  the 
very  situation  of  the  organ.  Music  may  be  denned  as 
a  species  of  natural  language,  depending  immediately 
on  either  a  melodious  succession,  or  a  harmonious  uni- 
son, of  tones — tones,  again,  being  distinguished  from 
simple  noises  by  a  peculiarity  in  the  mode  of  their 
production.  A  noise  is  the  result  of  some  isolated 
concussion  of  the  air ;  when  concussions  or  impulses 
on  the  air  follow  in  a  sufficiently  rapid  succession,  they 
melt  into  each  other,  and  the  effect  is  a  tone.  These 
are  facts  in  natural  philosophy,  and  have  been  curiously 
illustrated  by  a  piece  of  mechanism,  which,  in  its  slow 
movements,  produces  only  noises,  but,  when  impelled 
with,  great  rapidity,  gives  forth  tones.  The  musical 
notes  are  repetitions  of  a  series  of  seven  tones,  each  of 
which  is  produced  by  a  certain  number  of  impulses  on 
the  air  within  a  given  space  of  time,  and  the  numbers 
of  these  impulses  all  bear  certain  nice  mathematical 
relations  to  each  other.  The  organ  of  Tune  in  the 
human  brain  appears  to  have  been  constituted  in  rela- 
tion to  these  physical  facts,  and,  in  cases  of  good  en- 
dowment, to  have  a  most  exact  perception  of  all  their 
niceties,  and  a  power  of  using  them  to  the  production 


PHRENOLOGY.  47 

of  the  species  of  natural  language  which  we  term  mu- 
sic. Cases  of  a  low  endowment  of  the  musical  faculty, 
or  of  persons  said  to  want  musical  ear,  are  of  frequent 
occurrence,  though,  perhaps,  in  many  such  instances, 
early  culture  would  have  brought  out  some  trace  of 
the  faculty.  The  great  bulk  of  mankind  possess  the 
organ  in  a  moderate  endowment,  so  as  to  be  capable 
of  enjoying  music  in  some  degree. 

No.   33. — Language. 

When  the  faculties  are  in  activity,  either  singly  or 
in  combination,  the  impulse  in  almost  all  individuals 
is  strong,  in  many  irresistible,  to  communicate  to 
others  the  feelings  or  thoughts  produced  by  them. 
This  may  be  done  by  signs,  which  is  natural  lan- 
guage, or  by  words,  which  constitute  conventional.  A 
faculty  is  given  to  man  and  animals  which  connects 
feelings  with  signs  and  cries ;  but  to  man  alone  is 
given  articulate  speech.  The  comparative  facility 
with  which  different  men  clothe  their  thoughts  in 
words,  depends  on  the  size  of  this  organ,  which  is  situ- 
ated in  the  super-orbitar  plate,  immediately  above  the 
eyeball,  and  when  large,  pushes  the  eye  outwards,  and 
sometimes  downwards,  producing,  in  the  latter  case,  a 
wrinkling  or  pursing  of  the  lower  eyelid.  There  is 
no  fluent  speaker  deficient  in  this  organ. 

Internal  Excitement  of  the  Knowing  Organs. — Spectral 
Illusions. 

The  Knowing  Organs  are  for  the  most  part  called 
into  activity  by  external  objects,  such  as  forms,  colors, 
sounds,  individual  things,  &c.  ;  but  internal  causes 
often  excite  them,  and  when  they  are  in  action,  objects 


48  PHRENOLOGY. 

will  be  perceived  which  have  no  external  existence, 
and  which,  nevertheless,  the  individual  will  believe  to 
be  real.  This  is  the  explanation  of  visions,  spectres, 
and  ghosts,  and  at  once  explains  the  firm  belief  of 
many  that  they  have  appeared  to  them,  and  the  fact 
that  it  never  happens  that  two  persons  see  the  same 
spectres  at  the  same  time.  The  Marquis  de  Villa  did 
not  see  Tasso's  familiar  spirit,  although  sitting  beside 
him  when  he  declared  it  appeared  to  himself. 

It  is  likely  that  the  proximate  cause  of  these  morbid 
manifestations  was  an  undue  determination  of  blood  to 
the  region  of  the  head  where  the  knowing  organs  are 
situated.  Nicolai,  the  bookseller  of  Berlin,  when  sub- 
ject to  the  same  disease,  applied  leeches  along  the  eye- 
brows ;  and  as  the  leeches  filled,  the  illusions  van- 
ished, becoming  fainter  and  fainter.  Such  are  often 
the  slight  causes,  revealed  by  science,  of  important, 
and  otherwise  bewildering  effects.  The  mysteries  of 
the  English  Opium-Eater  have  been  made  plain  by 
the  case  of  Miss  S.  L.  He  saw  faces  in  millions,  in- 
sufferable lights,  brilliant  colors,  &c. ;  and,  as  we  have 
stated  when  treating  of  the  organ  of  Weight,  he  lost 
the  sensation  of  support  or  resistance,  and  seemed  to 
fall  millions  of  miles.  Mr.  John  Hunter,  the  anat- 
omist, likewise  suffered  from  illusions  of  Size  and 
Weight,  his  leg  often  extending,  as  he  thought, 
many  miles  in  length,  and  having  the  weight  of  a 
mountain. 

GENUS    III. REFLECTIVE    FACULTIES. 

The  Intellectual  Faculties  already  considered,  give 
us  knowledge  of  objects,  and  the  qualities  and  relations 


PHRENOLOGY.  49 

of  objects,  also  of  the  changes  they  undergo,  or  events. 
The  two  remaining  faculties,  according  to  Dr.  Spurz- 
heim,  "  act  on  all  the  other  sensations  and  notions ; " 
that  is,  they  judge  of  the  relations  of  different  ideas  or 
classes  of  ideas  produced  by  the  Knowing  Faculties. 
They  minister  to  the  direction  and  gratification  of  all 
the  other  faculties,  and  constitute  what  by  excellence 
is  called  reason,  in  other  words,  reflection. 

No.  34. — Comparison. 

Dr.  Gall  discovered  the  organ  of  this  faculty  in  a 
man  of  science,  who  reasoned  chiefly  by  means  of 
analogies  and  comparisons,  and  rarely  by  logical  de- 
ductions. He  illustrated  everything,  and  carried  his 
opponent  along  with  him  with  a  flood  of  resemblances, 
concluding  that  the  thing  disputed  must  be  true,  being 
like  so  many  things  that  are  known  to  be  true.  In  his 
head  was  a  fullness  in  the  form  of  a  reversed  pyramid, 
just  in  the  middle  of  the  upper  part  of  the  forehead. 
The  faculty  perceives  analogies  and  resemblances. 
Every  faculty  can  compare  its  own  objects.  Coloring 
can  compare  colors ;  Weight  weights ;  Form  forms ; 
Tune  sounds;  but  Comparison  can  compare  a  color 
with  a  note,  or  a  form  with  a  weight,  &c.  Analogy  is 
a  comparison  not  of  things  but  of  their  relations.  The 
Saviour,  for  example,  in  his  parental  apostrophe,  does 
not  compare  Jerusalem  with  himself  as  two  objects ; 
but  compares  the  relation  of  a  hen  to  her  chickens  cov- 
ered with  her  wings,  with  the  relation  of  his  own  be- 
nevolent feelings  towards  that  devoted  city.  In  doing 
this,  he  addressed  the  faculty  of  Comparison  in  his 
hearers.  It  is  constantly  addressed  in  Scripture  by 
similes,  parables,  allegories,  and  all  kinds  of  analogies. 


50  PHRENOLOGY. 

No.  35. — Causality. 

This  is  the  highest  and  noblest  of  the  intellectual 
powers,  and  is  the  last  in  the  phrenological  analysis 
of  the  faculties.  Dr.  Spurzheim  so  named  it,  from  ob- 
serving that  it  traces  the  connexion  between  cause  and 
effect,  and  sees  the  relation  of  ideas  to  each  other  in 
respect  of  necessary  consequence.  Its  organs  are  situ- 
ated on  each  side  of  Comparison.  Some  metaphysi- 
cians have  held  that  we  have  no  idea  of  cause,  but  see 
only  sequence,  or  one  thing  following  another.  It  is 
true  that  we  do  see  sequence.  When,  for  example, 
fire  is  put  to  gunpowder,  Individuality  perceives  the 
existence  of  the  powder  and  of  the  match  ;  Eventuality 
sees  the  motion  which  unites  them,  and  the  change  or 
event  which  takes  place  in  the  explosion  ;  but  we  have 
a  third  idea,  namely,  that  of  power,  agency  or  ef- 
ficiency, existing  in  some  way  in  the  cause,  to  produce 
the  effect.  Whence  do  we  get  this  third  idea  ? — from 
a  third  or  distinct  faculty,  and  that  is  Causality. 


GENERAL   OBSERVATIONS. 

According  to  the  phrenologists,  the  faculties  are  not 
mere  passive  feelings  ;  they  all  tend  to  action.  When 
duly  active,  the  actions  they  produce  are  proper  or 
necessary ;  in  excess  or  abuse,  they  are  improper,  vi- 
cious or  criminal.  Small  moral  organs  do  not  produce 
abuses  ;  but  they  are  unable  to  prevent  the  abuse  of  the 
animal  organs,  as  the  larger  tend  to  do ;  thus,  small 
Benevolence  is  not  cruel,  but  it  does  not  offer  sufficient 
control  to  Destructiveness,  which  then  impels  to  cruelty. 
Large  organs  have  the  greatest,  small  the  least,  ten- 
dency to  act — each  faculty  producing  the  feeling  or 


PHRENOLOGY.  51 

idea  peculiar  to  itself.  Seeing  that  all  the  organs  tend 
to  action,  the  Creator  must  have  intended  a  legitimate 
sphere  of  action  for  them  all.  He  could  never  have 
created  either  bad  or  unnecessary  faculties. 

The  PROPENSITIES  and  SENTIMENTS  cannot  be  called 
into  action  by  the  will.  We  cannot  fgar,  or  pity,  or 
love,  or  be  angry,  by  willing  it.  But  internal  causes 
may  stimulate  the  organs,  and  then,  whether  we  wiH 
or  not,  their  emotions  will  be  felt.  Again,  these  feel- 
ings are  called  into  action  in  spite  of  the  will,  by  the 
presentation  of  their  external  objects — Cautiousness  by 
objects  of  terror,  Love  by  beauty,-  and  so  on.  The 
force  of  the  feelings,  whether  excited  from  within  or 
without,  will  be  in  proportion  to  the  activity  of  the 
temperament.  Excessive  action  of  the  affective  facul- 
ties, or  the  removal  of  their  object,  causes  pain.  Ex- 
cessive rage  is  painful  to  Destructiveness ;  and  the 
death  of  an  infant  pains  the  Philoprogenitiveness  of 
the  mother.  Insanity  is  a  frequent  result  of  over- 
activity  of  the  affective  feelings.  An  affective  faculty 
may  be  diseased,  and  yet  the  intellect  sound.  The 
converse  is  also  true.  When  the  organ  is  small,  its 
feeling  cannot  be  adequately  experienced.  Hence  the 
frauds  of  those  with  small  Conscientiousness  and  large 
Secretiveness  and  Acquisitiveness.  The  will  can  in- 
directly excite  the  affective  feelings,  by  setting  the  in- 
tellect to  work  to  find  externally,  or  conceive  internally, 
the  proper  objects.  This  accounts  for  different  turns 
and  pursuits.  The  value  of  the  truth,  that  large  or- 
gans give  strong,  and  small  weak  impulses,  is  incal- 
culable in  society ;  all  the  practical  arrangements  by 
which  persons  may  be  selected  to  perform  certain 


52  PHRENOLOGY. 

functions,  and  excluded  from  others  where  they  would 
be  profitless  or  unsafe,  depend  upon  it.  Moral  train- 
ing by  educators  is  founded  on  it.  The  weak  facul- 
ties should  be  strengthened,  and  the  strong  regulated. 
Lastly,  the  affective  faculties  do  not  form  ideas,  but 
simply  feel ;  and  therefore  have  no  memory,  concep- 
tion, or  imagination.  They  have  Sensation  only ;  in 
other  words,  they  feel.  Hence  Sensation  belongs  to 
all  the  faculties  which  feel,  and  to  the  external  senses 
and  nervous  system  in  general.  Sensation,  therefore, 
is  a  state  or  condition,  not  a  faculty,  as  it  is  held  to  be 
by  the  metaphysicians. 

The  KNOWING  and  REFLECTING  FACULTIES,  or  Intel- 
lect, form  ideas,  perceive  relations,  and  are  subject  to, 
or  rather  consitute,  the  Will;  and  minister  to  the 
affective  faculties.  They  may  be  excited  by  external 
objects,  and  by  internal  causes.  When  excited  by  the 
presentation  of  external  objects,  these  objects  are  per- 
ceived, and  this  act  is  called  PERCEPTION.  It  is  the 
lowest  degree  of  activity  of  the  intellectual  faculties  : 
and  those  who  are  deficient  in  a  faculty  cannot  per- 
ceive its  object.  We  often  see,  for  example,  inability 
to  perceive  melody,  color,  analogy,  or  necessary  con- 
sequence, from  defective  Tune,  Coloring,  Comparison, 
and  Causality.  Every  faculty,  as  a  percipient,  has  its 
own  perception. 

CONCEPTION  is  also  a  mode  of  action  of  the  faculties, 
not  a  faculty  itself.  It  is  the  activity  of  the  faculties 
from  internal  causes,  either  willed,  or  involuntary  from 
natural  activity.  IMAGINATION  is  conception  carried  to 
a  high  pitch  of  vivacity.  Thus,  Perception  is  the 
lowest  degree  of  activity  of  any  of  the  intellectual  fac- 


PHRENOLOGY.  53 

ulties,  Conception  the  second,  and  Imagination  the 
highest.  Imagination  is  often  confounded  with  Ideality, 
but  is  quite  distinct  from  it.  Each  faculty  conceives 
in  its  own  way.  Form  conceives  forms,  and  may 
imagine  them  exquisitely  beautiful ;  Tune  conceives 
music  ;  and  so  on.  Curious  effects  result  when  these 
faculties  are  morbidly  active.  The  whole  mystery  of 
spectral  illusions  is  thus  made  plain. 

DREAMING,  to  account  for  which  so  many  volumes 
have  been  written  in  vain,  is  at  once  explained  by  the 
excitability  of  the  organs  from  internal  causes ;  and 
as  some  organs  may  be  awake  while  others  are  asleep, 
the  disjointed  images  of  our  dreaming  moments  are, 
to  the  phrenologist,  a  thing  which  was  to  have  been 
expected.  The  kind  of  dreams  most  frequent  with  us 
could  be  predicted  by  the  phrenologist  from  the  size 
of  the  predominating  organs. 

MEMORY,  too,  is  not  a  faculty,  but  a  mode  of  action. 
It  necessarily  follows  that  there  can  be  no  such  thing 
as  the  general  memory  of  the  metaphysicians,  but 
every  faculty  must  have  its  own  memory.  Memory 
belongs,  however,  only  to  the  intellectual  faculties.  It 
differs  from  Conception  and  Imagination  in  this,  that 
it  recollects  real  objects  or  events  which  it  has  actually 
perceived,  and  adds  the  consciousness  of  time  elapsed 
since  they  were  perceived.  The  other  named  modes 
of  action  do  not  require  realities  or  time. 

JUDGMENT,  in  its  proper  sense,  is  the  perception  of 
adaptation,  fitness  and  necessary  consequence ;  and  is 
a  mode  of  action  of  the  reflecting  powers.  In  a  cer- 
tain sense,  the  knowing  faculties  may  each  be  said  to 
possess  judgment ;  as  Coloring  judges  of  colors,  Form 


54  PHRENOLOGY. 

of  forms,  Tune  of  music.  When,  however,  we  use 
the  word  judgment,  we  mean  right  reasoning,  sound 
deciding.  To  this  a  proper  balance  of  the  affective 
faculties  is  essential.  There  is  no  sound  judgment, 
even  with  great  reflecting  powers,  if  any  of  the  feel- 
ings are  excessive.  Hence  the  difficulty  of  convincing 
each  other,  experienced  by  heated  controversialists. 
What  is  called  a  person  of  good  sense,  is  one  who  has 
not  only  clear  and  strong  reflecting  powers,  but  well- 
balanced  feelings,  thus  allowing  the  reflecting  powers 
to  have  undisturbed  action. 

CONSCIOUSNESS  is  the  knowledge  which  the  mind  has 
of  its  own  existence  and  operations,  whether  these  last 
are  affective  or  intellectual ;  but  as  it  does  not  reveal 
the  existence  or  nature  of  the  powers  themselves  which 
think  and  feel,  it  was  an  error  in  the  metaphysicians 
to  attempt  to  discover  these  powers  by  reflecting  on 
their  own  consciousness.  As  they  could  have,  by  this 
means,  no  access  to  the  consciousness  of  others,  they 
fell  into  the  error  of  supposing  all  men  constituted 
alike. 

ATTENTION  is  not  a  faculty,  but  the  stretch,  appli- 
cation, or  tension,  of  any  or  all  of  the  intellectual  fac- 
ulties. 

ASSOCIATION  is  that  succession  of  ideas  in  the  mind, 
each  seeming  to  call  up  that  which  succeeds  ;  so  that, 
in  our  waking  hours,  the  mind  is  never  without  an 
idea  passing  through  it.  This  is  a  state  or  condition 
of  the  faculties,  not  a  faculty.  The  metaphysicians 
have  endeavoured  to  discover  laws  by  which,  in  every 
mind,  this  succession  is  regulated.  This  attempt  is 
utterly  vain — as  vain  as  to  subject  the  succession  of 


PHRENOLOGY.  55 

the  fleeting  clouds  or  fitful  breezes  to  regular  laws. 
The  uniform  associating  powers,  according  to  the  old 
notions,  are  resemblance,  contiguity  in  time  and  place, 
and  contrast ;  yet  any  one  who  thinks  on  the  subject, 
cannot  fail  to  be  sensible  that  there  are  many  connect- 
ing links  of  thought  which  cannot  be  reduced  to  any 
of  these  three.  The  phrenological  view  is,  that^the 
predominant  faculties  in  each  mind  create  the  associa- 
tions. It  is  in  the  philosophy  of  Stewart  that  As- 
sociation is  made  to  play  a  part  most  disproportioned 
to  its  actual  nature.  He  even  holds  that  Association 
produces  new  principles  of  action,  and  names  Avarice 
(which  phrenology  proves  to  be  the  abuse  of  a  primi- 
tive faculty  called  Acquisitiveness)  as  one  of  them. 
Association  is  a  very  important  principle  in  mental 
science.  There  is  a  mutual  influence  of  the  organs, 
which  produces  associations ;  a  natural  association  be- 
tween certain  external  objects  and  certain  faculties  ; 
and  artificial  associations  may  be  formed  between  ob- 
jects and  faculties.  For  example,  long  exercise  of  a 
particular  organ  or  organs  in  performing  certain  acts, 
renders  those  acts  easy,  by  the  rapid  association  of  the 
ideas  necessary  to  their  performance.  Professional 
skill,  in  all  its  varieties,  is  thus  accounted  for.  Mutual 
action  of  the  faculties  arises  from  the  beautiful  arrange- 
ment of  grouping  which  we  have  already  described. 
The  organ  of  Language  associates  signs  with  ideas, 
with  well  known  rapidity.  Artificial  Memory,  or 
Mnemonics,  as  it  is  called,  avails  itself  of  our  most  easy 
and  natural  associations,  which  will  always  be  regulat- 
ed by  our  organization.  One  person  will  connect  his 
ideas  with /or/Tw,  another  with  colors,  and  many  do  so 


56  PHRENOLOGY. 

with  places.  Prejudices  are  associations  of  false  ideas 
with  the  feelings.  In  short,  to  arrive  at  anything  like 
laws  of  association,  we  must  not  look  to  the  ideas 
themselves,  but  to  the  faculties  which  form  them. 

PASSION  is  any  faculty  in  excess.  Thus,  there  are 
as  many  passions  as  faculties.  Love  is  the  passion  of 
Amativeness  in  union  with  Veneration ;  avarice  of 
Acquisitiveness ;  rage  of  Destructiveness. 

PLEASURE  and  PAIN  also  belong  to  each  faculty,  ac- 
cording as  it  is  agreeably  or  disagreeably  affected. 

PATIENCE  and  IMPATIENCE  are  respectively  the  re- 
sults of  certain  combinations  of  faculties.  Thus,  Be- 
nevolence, Veneration,  Hope,  Conscientiousness  and 
Firmness,  with  moderate  Self-Esteem,  produce  a  quiet, 
meek,  resigned  and  patient  spirit.  Apathy  is  quite 
different,  although  often  confounded  with  Patience ;  it 
arises  from  lymphatic  temperament,  or  deficient  brain. 
On  the  other  hand,  Self-Esteem,  Combativeness  and 
Destructiveness,  when  larger  than  Benevolence,  Con- 
scientiousness and  Veneration,  will  be  impatient  of 
contradiction.  Large  Time  and  Tune  give  impatience 
of  bad  music. 

JOY  and  GRIEF  arise  from  agreeable  and  disagree- 
able affections  of  the  faculties  by  causes  of  consider- 
able power.  Wealth,  power  and  praise  give  joy  to 
Acquisitiveness,  Self-Esteem  and  Love  of  Approba- 
tion ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  death  of  a  beloved 
relative  affects  Adhesiveness  with  grief. 

SYMPATHY,  as  its  name,  from  the  Greek,  signifies, 
is  feeling  with  another,  or  partaking  of  his  emotions. 
The  laws  which  regulate  the  activity  of  the  faculties 
show  the  nature  of  this  affection  and  the  circumstances 


i 

PHRENOLOGY.  57 

in  which  it  occurs.  Two  individuals  of  *similar  con- 
stitution of  mind  naturally  feel  alike.  This  is  the 
sympathy  felt  in  the  theatre,  listening  to  eloquence,  or 
witnessing  distress  and  suffering.  But  there  is  another 
kind  of  sympathy,  namely,  that  which  is  called  up  by 
the  activity  of  a  particular  feeling  in  another's  mind, 
manifested  by  the  natural  language  of  the  active  fac- 
ulty ;  thus,  the  Jbaughty  air  of  Self-Esteem  instantly 
calls  up  a  defensive  Self-Esteem  in  those  who  witness 
it,  if  the  faculty  be  powerful  in  them.  On  the  other 
hand,  Benevolence,  with  its  kind  natural  language, 
excites  the  same  feeling  in  another.  "Wonder,  too, 
spreads  rapidly ;  and  so  on.  We  sympathize  with  the 
animal  feelings  of  Combativeness  and  Destructiveness 
only  when  they  are  awakened  and  guided  by  Consci- 
entiousness and  Benevolence.  But  we  sympathize 
with  Benevolence  directly,  provided  we  do  not  detect 
a  mixture  of  a  selfish  feeling  in  the  actions  it  produces, 
such  as  vanity  or  love  of  gain.  The  doctrine  of  sym- 
pathy leads  to  valuable  practical  consequences  in  life. 
In  education,  for  example,  it  explains  the  greater  power 
of  Benevolence  than  of  Self-Esteem  and  Destructive- 
ness  in  the  treatment  of  the  young — of  kindness  than 
of  harsh  and  imperious  commands  and  punishments. 

HABIT  may  be  defined  as  the  power  of  doing  any- 
thing well,  by  frequently  doing  it.  But  before  it  can 
be  done  at  all,  there  must  be  the  faculty  to  do  it,  how- 
ever awkwardly.  Habit,  then,  is  the  acquired  strength 
of  the  faculty  by  its  repeated  exercise.  The  act  of 
performing  skilfully  on  a  musical  instrument  is  the 
best  illustration.  Stewart  erred  when  he  held  that 
"  a  genius  for  poetry,  painting,  music  or  mathe- 


58  PHEENOLOGY.  + 

matics,  is  gradually  formed  by  particular  habits  of 
study  or  of  business."  These  phrenology  shows  to  be 
the  result  of  original  primitive  powers,  which  habit 
does  not  form,  but  only  improves. 

TASTE  was  held  by  Stewart  to  be  a  faculty,  and 
acquired  by  habit.  Phrenology  holds  that  good  taste 
is  the  result  of  a  harmonious  action  of  all  the  faculties. 
Bad  taste  is  evinced  when  particular  faculties,  espe- 
cially the  propensities,  break  out. beyond  due  limits. 
Lord  Byron's  Destructiveness  and  other  animal  facul- 
ties often  prompted  him  to  sin  against  good  taste.  Too 
much  Causality  is  bad  taste  in  Poetry ;  while  Homer 
and  Moore  have  too  much  Comparison.  Social  con- 
verse is  injured  by  bad  taste  in  various  ways — by  dis- 
plays^kf  vanity,  disputatiousness,  &c.  Bad  morality 
is  bad  taste  ;  but  it  is  more,  it  is  turpitude.  A  stand- 
ard of  taste,  about  which  so  much  has  been  written,  is 
not  a  decision  in  respect  to  certain  objects  or  qualities 
of  objects,  as  beautiful  or  perfect  to  all  men.  This 
were  a  vain  attempt ;  but  it  may  be  approximated,  by 
appealing  to  the  taste  of  individuals  of  very  favorable 
and  harmonious  organization,  which  has  received  the 
highest  possible  culture.  It  is  obvious  to  every  one 
that  good  taste,  sound  judgment  and  good  morals,  all 
require  well-balanced  faculties. 

Such  is  a  brief  view  of  Phrenology,  as  represented 
by  its  advocates  ;  and  though  we  are  not  disposed,  fully, 
to  admit  its  claims,  it  is  yet,  in  many  respects,  instruc- 
tive, and  is  certainly  worthy  of  being  studied  for  the 
numerous  useful  facts  and  observations  which  it  ex- 
hibits. 


MENTAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

THE  Science  of  Phrenology,  as  we  have  stated, 
proposes  to  furnish  the  basis  of  Mental  Philosophy, 
but,  in  the  outlines  we  have  given,  we  have  rather 
exhibited  what  are  claimed  to  be  the  instruments  of 
thought,  than  the  operations  of  the  mind  itself.  Even 
were  we  to  admit,  therefore,  that  the  science  is  found- 
ed in  truth,  a  farther  investigation  is  needed.  Ac- 
cordingly we  propose  to  give  a  brief  view  of  the  phi- 
losophy of  the  mind,  as  laid  down  by  the  great 
writers  on  this  subject,  and  as  recognised  by  the 
scientific  world. 

Mental  Science,  or  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human 
Mind,  is  that  branch  of  knowledge  which  investigates 
the  laws  of  the  human  intellect.  Its  object  is  to  as- 
certain the, properties  of  the  mind,  the  origin  of  its 
various  modes  of  thought  and  feeling,  the  ways  in 
which  they  operate  upon  each  other,  and  the  means 
by  which  they  are  to  be  cultivated  or  repressed. 
Mental  Philosophy  is  not  uncommonly  confounded 
with  metaphysics  ;  and  the  absurdities  and  vain  spec- 
ulations which  have  been  classed  under  the  latter,  have 
been  supposed  by  many  to  belong  to  the  former 
The  science  of  metaphysics  comprehends  all  those  in 
vestigations  which  have  for  their  aim  the  properties, 
classification  and  laws  of  such  objects  of  human 
thought  as  by  sensation  alone  could  not  be  brought 


60  MENTAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

under  the  notice  of  the  human  mind.  The  ancient 
metaphysics  comprehended  many  objects  which  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  lie  within  the  sphere  of  human 
knowledge,  and  which  are  rather  to  be  considered  as 
the  reveries  of  the  imagination  than  the  realities  of 
intellect ;  but  these  the  good  sense  of  the  present  day 
regards  merely  as  objects  of  curiosity. 

Whatever  relates  to  the  properties  of  the  mind,  to 
the  operations  of  intellect  and  affection,  is  of  great  im- 
portance in  various  points  of  view.  The  philosophy 
of  the  mind,  as  Mr.  Stewart  justly  remarks,  abstracted 
entirely  from  that  eminence  which  belongs  to  it  in 
consequence  of  its  practical  applications,  may  claim  a 
distinguished  rank  among  those  preparatory  disciplines 
which  Berkeley  has  happily  compared  to  "  the  crops 
which  are  raised,  not  for  the  sake  of  the  harvest,  but 
to  be  ploughed  in  as  a  dressing  to  the  land."  This 
science,  in  fact,  teaches  man  to  know  himself,  and  to 
improve,  direct,  and  exert  his  intellectual  faculties  in 
a  manner  the  most  beneficial  to  himself  and  others. 
In  particular,  it  begets  a  just  sense  of  the  dignity 
of  our  rational  nature,  and  the  great  end  of  intellectual- 
existence.  It  directs  us  to  the  best  method  of  culti- 
vating the  mental  powers,  of  preventing  or  correcting 
prejudice  and  error,  and  of  enlarging  the  stock  of  use- 
ful knowledge.  By  analyzing  the  principles  of  action, 
and  tracing  the  origin  and  progress  of  affection,  habit, 
and  character,  it  leads  to  the  proper  discipline  of  the 
heart,  and  supplies  the  most  efficacious  means  of  cor- 
recting all  undue  bias  of  self-love,  of  resisting  the 
motives  to  vice,  of  restraining  the  exorbitance  of  the 
passions,  of  cultivating  virtuous  principles,  and  of  at- 


MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  61 

taining  that  just  and  beautiful  symmetry  of  the  afiec 
tions,  that  elevation  of  mind,  and  disinterestedness  of 
character,  which,  when  combined  with  vigor  of  intel- 
lect and  comprehension  of  views,  constitute  the  true 
dignity  and  happiness  of  man. 

GENERAL   VIEW   OF   THE    FACULTIES   OF    THE    MIND. 

Whatever  thinks,  and  feels,  and  wills,  is  called  mind. 
That  part  of  the  human  being  which  thinks,  and  feels, 
and  wills,  is  called  the  human  mind.  We  observe 
without  us  and  within  us,  numerous  phenomena  :  the 
object  of  mental  philosophy  is  to  deduce  from  them 
those  general  laws  agreeably  to  which  they  are  pro- 
duced ;  and  then  to  employ  those  laws  in  the  explana- 
tion of  other  phenomena.  Mental  philosophy  pursues 
the  same  method  which  has  been  so  successfully 
adopted  in  natural  philosophy ;  and  as  in  physics, 
similar  phenomena  are  referred  to  the  operation  of 
some  one  cause  or  power,  so  in  mental  science  those 
phenomena  which  have  all  one  common  feature  are 
referred  to  some  faculty  or  property  of  the  mind  by 
whose  operation  these  phenomena  are  supposed  to  be 
produced. 

If  we  hold  a  luminous  body  before  the  eye,  it  pro- 
duces some  change  in  the  state  of  that  organ,  and  this 
produces  in  the  mind  a  feeling ;  this  feeling  is  called 
a  sensation.  This  name  is  also  given  to  all  those 
other  feelings  which  are  produced  in  a  similar  way, 
namely,  owing  to  a  change  in  the  organs  of  sense, 
whatever  be  the  cause  by  which  the  change  is  pro- 
duced. The  general  fact  or  law  is,  that  sensations 


62  MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

are  produced  by  what  affects  the  organs  of  sense. 
Now,  to  account  for  this  fact  we  infer  that  the  mind  is 
possessed  of  a  power  or  capacity  which  we  call  sensa- 
tion, or,  more  effectually  to  avoid  ambiguity,  the  sen- 
sitive power.  This,  then,  is  that  power  or  capacity 
of  the  mind  by  whose  operation  it  receives  sensations 
from  things  which  affect  the  organs  of  sense. 

We  know  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  though  sensa- 
tions cease  soon  after  the  exciting  object  is  withdrawn, 
yet  if  they  have  been  produced  sufficiently  often,  or 
vividly,  the  causes  of  feeling,  similar  in  kind,  remain 
in  the  mind;  and  those  similar  feelings  can  recur 
where  no  change  is  produced  in  the  organs  of  sense. 
These  are  called  ideas  ;  they  are  the  relics  of  sensa- 
tions. Such  is  the  general  law  or  fact.  The  opera- 
tion or  act  of  retaining  relics  of  sensations,  may  with 
the  strictest  propriety,  he  termed  retention  ;  and  to  ac- 
count for  it  we  infer  that  the  mind  possesses  a  power 
or  capacity  which  we  may  term  the  retentive  power. 
This,  then,  is  that  power  or  capacity  of  the  mind  by 
which  it  retains  relics  of  the  sensations. 

OF  THE  SENSITIVE  POWER. 

The  brain  is  a  soft,  pulpy  mass,  occupying  the  cav- 
ity of  the  skull.  The  spinal  marrow  is  a  continuation 
of  the  lowest  part  of  the  brain,  which  passes  through 
the  great  opening  of  the  skull  down  to  the  hollow  of 
the  back-bone.  From  the  brain  and  spinal  marrow 
proceed  the  nerves,  which  at  first  are  fine  fibres  of  the 
same  substance  with  the  brain  ;  these  fibres  meet  and 
form  soft  pulpy  cords,  which  afterwards  spread  them- 


*          ^^ 

MEXTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  63 

^m 

selves  over  various  parts  of  the  body  by  splitting  into 
innumerable  and  exceedingly  minute  branches.  The 
external  organs  of  sense,  the  nerves,  brain,  and  whole 
medullary  substance,  are  the  corporeal  organs  of  sense. 
All,  as  we  are  at  present  constituted;  are  necessary  to 
sensation.  If  the  external  organ  is  destroyed,  no  sensa- 
tion can  be  produced  ;  where  there  are  no  nerves  there 
is  no  sensation ;  where  the  nervous  branches  are  most 
numerous,  there  is  most  sensation.  The  brain  is  the 
ultimafe  organ  of  sensation ;  all  the  nerves  terminate 
there.  " 

The  external  organs  of  sensation  are  usually 
classed  under  five  heads,  Sight,  Hearing,  Feeling  or 
Touch,  Smell,  and  Taste.  The  sense  of  feeling 
might  probably,  with  convenience,  be  divided  into  two 
or  three.  But  the  common  arrangement  is  sufficient 
for  our  purpose. 

The  touch  is  the  original  medium  of  our  knowledge 
respecting  the  real  qualities  of  substance,  and  indeed 
is  the  sole  medium  by  which  we  gain  a  knowledge  of 
external  objects  as  such.  It  is  by  the  tonch,  and 
originally  by  the  touch  alone,  aided  by  the  power  of 
muscular  motion,  that  we  distinguish  our  own  bodies 
from  other  objects  that  surround  us.  When  we  touch 
a  sensible  part  of  our  bodies,  we  have  sensations 
conveyed  to  the  mind  through  two  nervous  branches  ; 
when  we  touch  any  other  body,  we  have  only  one  sen- 
sation. The  notion  that  external  objects  give  us  the 
sensations  of  sound,  taste,  sight  and  smell,  is  so  con- 
tinually forced  upon  us  by  the  sensations  of  touch  aid- 
ed by  the  power  of  muscular  motion,  that  there  proba- 
bly never  was  a  person  who  doubted  the  existence  of 


64  MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

the  external  world  as  the  cause  of  his  sensations,  ex- 
cept from  the  influence  of  philosophical  speculation. 
Some  very  acute  thinkers  have,  indeed,  given  up  the 
belief  of  an  external  world  as  the  cause  of  their  sensa- 
tions ;  hut  their  opinions  never  did,  nor  ever  can,  gain 
much  ground,  for  it  is  inconsistent  with  the  percep- 
tions, which  by  the  constitution  of  our  frame,  are  ne- 
cessarily formed  from  continually  recurring  sensations. 
Berkeley  and  Drummond  are  the  chief  supporters  of 
this  erroneous  opinion  to  which  we  allude. 

Sensations,  then,  are  the  rudiments  or  elements  of 
all  our  ideas,  that  is,  of  all  our  thoughts  and  feelings, 
excepting  the  ideas  of  consciousness.  When  the  at- 
tention of  the  mind  is  directed  to  its  own  state  and 
operations — whether  these  are  directly  intentional, 
semi-voluntary,  or  the  result  of  habit  or  external  im- 
pression— it  is  termed  reflection.  The  capacity  of  re- 
flection, or  the  observation  of  what  passes  within  us. 
is  seldom  perceived  very  early  in  life  ;  and  agreeably 
to  the  obvious  order  of  nature,  it  ought  not  to  be  pre- 
dominant till  the  world  without  us  has  furnished 
abundant  materials  for  our  mental  operations. 

Considering  man  as  an  intellectual  being,  the  cor- 
rectness and  extent  of  his  perceptions  are  of  the  first 
moment;  these  are,  in  fact,  the  materials  of  all 
knowledge  respecting  external  objects,  and  in  the 
early  stages  of  mental  culture,  are  the  only  objects  of 
the  understanding. 

OF    THE    RETENTIVE    POWERS. 

Whatever  be  the  effect  produced  on  the  mental 
organs  by  the  impressions  on  the  organs  of  sense,  that 


MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  65 

effect  can  be  renewed,  though  in  general  with  dimin- 
ished vigor,  without  a  repetition  of  the  sensible  im- 
pressions. In  other  words,  sensible  changes  produce 
a  tendency  to  similar  changes  which  can  be  repeated 
without  the  repetition  of  the  external  impressions,  and 
may  thus  be  called  ideal  changes.  In  many  animals 
it  is  highly  probable  that  sensations  leave  no  relics 
behind  them  ;  and  in  man  there  are,  with  equal  proba- 
bility, numerous  impressions  from  external  objects, 
which  leave  no  relics  behind  them.  Without  the  re- 
tentive power,  it  is  obvious  that  man  would  be  a  crea- 
ture of  mere  sensation,  little  if  at  all  superior  to  the 
lowest  orders  of  the  animal  creation,  and  inferior  to 
many  of  them.  The  retentive  power  provides  mate- 
rials for  the  agency  of  the  associative  power. 

Sensible  changes  may  perceptibly  continue  after  the 
sensible  objects  are  removed.  Philosophy  may  here 
draw  an  illustration  from  the  childish  amusement  of 
what  is.  called  "  making  gold  lace."  If  a  piece  of 
stick  be  burnt  at  one  end,  and  the  lighted  end  be 
waved  quickly  in  the  air  it  will  appear  like  a  continu- 
ous riband  of  fire  ;  the  changes  of  the  optic  organs 
continuing  till  the  image  of  the  luminous  point  re- 
turns to  any  given  point  of  the  retina.  Acoustics  may 
furnish  another  illustration.  If  a  sonorous  body  be 
struck  with  rapidly-succeeding  strokes,  we  do  not  per- 
ceive any  interval  between  the  sounds  ;  in  fact  the 
most  simple  sounds  we  hear  being  reflected  from  the 
neighboring  bodies,  consist  of  a  number  of  sounds 
succeeding  each  other.  The  sensible  changes  pro- 
duced by  the  other  senses  also  continue  some  time 
after  the  impressions  which  have  been  made  upon 
E 


66 


MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY. 


them.  If  a  hard  body  be  pressed  upon  the  palm  of 
the  hand,  it  is  not  easy  to  distinguish,  for  a  few  sec- 
onds, whether  it  remains  or  is  removed.  And  tastes 
continue  to  be  perceived  long  after  the  sapid  substance 
is  removed. 

OF    THE    ASSOCIATIVE    POWER. 

By  this  power,  sensations  become  the  signs  of 
thoughts  and  feelings,  and  man  becomes  a  social  being. 
By  this  the  whole  mental  furniture  of  perceptions, 
notions,  affections,  passions,  sentiments,  emotions,  &c. 
is  formed  from  the  simple  relics  of  sensation ;  and  man, 
from  mere  sensation,  rises  to  intellect,  and  becomes 
capable  of  reflection  and  action. 

A  sensation,  after  having  been  associated  a  sufficient 
number  of  times  with  another  sensation,  will,  when 
impressed  alone,  excite  the  simple  idea  corresponding 
with  that  other  sensation.  Thus  the  names,  smells, 
tastes,  &c.  of  external  objects,  suggest  the  Idea  of 
their  visible  appearance ;  and  the  sight  of  them  sug- 
gests their  names,  &c.  In  the  same  manner,  a  word 
half  pronounced  excites  the  idea  of  the  whole  word ; 
the  sight  of  part  of  an  object  suggests  the  idea  of  the 
whole.  Words  associated  with  ideas  will  readily 
excite  them,  even  when  very  complex.  The  words 
hero,  philosopher,  justice,  benevolence,  truth,  and  the 
like,  whether  written  or  pronounced,  immediately  call 
up  with  precision  the  corresponding  idea. 

Sensation  may  be  connected  with  muscular  action, 
that  is,  with  those  sensorial  changes  which  are  followed 
by  muscular  action,  so  that  the  sensation  will  excite 
the  muscular  action  without  the  intervention  of  that 


MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  67 

state  of  mind  which  is  called  wHL.  A  person  automat- 
ically, that  is,  without  any  volition,  turns  his  head 
towards  another  who  calls  him  by  name.  When  the 
hand  of  another  is  rapidly  moved  towards  the  eye,  we 
shut  the  eye  without  thinking  of  it,  or  even  being  con- 
scious of  it. 

The  will  is  that  state  of  mind  which  is  immediately 
previous  to,  and  causes,  those  express  acts  of  memory, 
imagination,  judgment,  and  bodily  motion  which  are 
termed  voluntary.  The  will  assumes  different  com- 
plexions, according  to  the  nature  of  the  motives 
influencing  it.  Sometimes  it  is  a  simple  determina- 
tion of  the  understanding;  at  other  times  it  is  the 
result  of  the  affections,  passions,  &c.  The  will  appears 
to  be  nothing  but  a  desire  or  aversion  sufficiently 
strong  to  produce  an  action  that  is  not  automatic,  pri- 
marily, or  secondarily.  The  will  is,  therefore,  that 
desire  or  aversion  which  is  strongest  for  the  actual 
time.  It  is  true  that  we  often  desire  and  pursue  things 
which  give  pain  rather  than  pleasure  ;  but  it  is  to  be 
supposed  that  they  at  first  afforded  pleasure,  and  that 
they  afterwards  give  pain  on  account  of  a  change  in 
our  circumstances.  Now  as  the  continuance  to  de- 
sire and  pursue  such  objects,  notwithstanding  the  pain 
arising  from  them,  is  the  effect  of  the  power  of  associ- 
ation, so  the  same  power  will  at  last  reverse  its  own 
steps,  and  free  us  from  such  hurtful  desires  and  pur- 
suits. 

OF    THE    MOTIVE    POWER. 

From  what  has  been  already  stated,  it  is  an  obvious 
fact  that  without  any  external  excitement  of  the  nerves 


DO  MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

by  whi£h  muscular  motion  is  produced,  the  mind  can 
produce  any  such  motion ;  in  other  words,  that  state 
of  the  motory  nerves  by  which  muscular  motion  is 
effected,  can  be  produced  by  the  mind.  To  account 
for  this  we  infer  that  the  mind  possesses  a  power  or 
capacity  of  influencing  the  motory  nerves  so  as  to  pro- 
duce muscular  motion,  which  may  be  called  the  motive 
power.  Whatever  be  the  causes  of  muscular  motion, 
that  motion,  if  it  begin  from  the  mind,  implies  that  the 
mind  possesses  the  power  of  which  we  speak,  separate 
from  the  cause  of  sensations,  of  ideas,  and  of  the  con- 
nexions among  them.  There  are  five  classes  of  mus- 
cular motion.  1.  When  it  is  produced  by  some 
foreign  excitement  of  the  muscular  system  without 
any  intervention  of  the  mind,  in  which  case  it  may  be 
termed  involuntary.  2.  When  it  is  produced  by 
sensations,  or  sensible  changes,  without  volition,  or 
any  other  associated  sensation,  idea,  or  motion  having 
been  concerned  in  the  connection  between  sensation 
and  motion :  this  is  termed  automatic.  3.  Where  it 
follows  the  state  of  mind  called  will,  directly,  and 
without  our  perceiving  the  intervention  of  any  other 
idea,  or  of  any  sensation  or  motion,  it  may  be  termed 
voluntary  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word.  If  the 
intervention  of  other  ideas,  or  of  sensations  and  emo- 
tions, all  of  which  we  suppose  to  follow  the  will  direct- 
ly, be  necessary,  it  is  imperfectly  voluntary ;  yet  still 
it  is  termed  voluntary  in  popular  language  if  it  follow 
certainly  and  readily  upon  the  intervention  of  a  single 
sensation,  idea  or  motion  excited  by  the  power  of  the 
will.  4.  If  more  than  one  of  these  be  required,  or  if 
the  motion  do  not  follow  with  certainty  and  facility,  it 


MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY.  69 

is  to  be  esteemed  less  and  less  voluntary,  semi-volun- 
tary, or  scarcely  voluntary  at  all,  according  to  the  cir- 
cumstances. 5.  When  the  motion  has  been  voluntary, 
but  is  become  automatic  by  the  influence  of  the  auto- 
matic power,  it  is  termed  secondarily  automatic. 

The  most  simple  instance  of  this  progress  is  in  the 
action  of  grasping.  The  fingers  of  young  children 
bend  upon  almost  every  impression  which  is  made  on 
the  palm  of  the  hand ;  thus  performing  the  action  of 
grasping  in  the  original  automatic  manner.  After  a 
sufficient  repetition  of  the  motions  which  concur  in 
this  action,  the  sensorial  changes  preceding  them  are 
strongly  associated  with  different  ideas,  the  most  com- 
mon of  which  probably  are  those  excited  by  the  sight 
of  a  favorite  plaything  or  other  object  which  the  child 
used  to  grasp  and  hold  in  his  hand.  He  ought  there- 
fore, according  to  the  doctrine  of  association,  to  per- 
form and  repeat  the  action  of  grasping  upon  having 
such  a  plaything,  &c.  presented  to  his  sight ;  and  it  is 
a  known  fact  that  children  do  so.  Here  the  action  is 
perfectly  automatic.  By  pursuing  the  same  method 
of  association,  we  may  see  how,  after  a  sufficient  repe- 
tition of  the  proper  associations,  the  sound  of  the 
words  grasp,  take,  hold,  &c.,  the  sight  of  the  nurse's 
hand  in  a  state  of  contraction,  the  recollection  of  a 
hand  in  that  state,  and  innumerable  other  associated 
circumstances,  that  is,  sensations,  ideas  and  motions, 
will  produce  the  action  of  grasping ;  till,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  action  being  found  to  answer  certain 
purposes  which  are  wished  for,  that  state  of  mind 
which  we  may  call  the  will  to  grasp,  is  generated  and 
sufficiently  associated  with  the  action  to  produce  the 


70  MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

requisite  muscular  motion  instantaneously.  The 
action  is  therefore  perfectly  voluntary  in  .this  case ; 
and  by  the  innumerable  repetitions  of  it  in  this  per- 
fectly voluntary  state,  it  at  last  acquires  a  sufficient 
connection  with  so  many  sensorial  changes,  either  sen- 
sitive, ideal,  or  motory,  that  whether  or  not  they  are 
so  vivid  or  so  accordant  with  the  state  of  mind  at  the 
time,  as  to  obtain  the  notice  of  the  mind,  it  follows 
them  in  the  same  manner  as  originally  automatic 
actions  do  the  corresponding  sensations ;  that  is,  it 
becomes  secondarily  automatic.  In  the  same  manner 
may  all  the  actions  performed  by  the  hand  be  explain- 
ed :  all  those  which  are  very  familiar  in  life  passing 
from  the  original  automatic  state  through  the  several 
degrees  of  voluntariness,  till  they  become  perfectly 
voluntary;  and  then  repassing  through  the  same  stages 
in  an  inverted  order  till  they  become  secondarily 
automatic  on  many  occasions,  though  still  perfectly 
voluntary  on  some  occasions,  namely,  whenever  an 
express  act  of  the  will  is  concerned. 

OF    THE    MEMORY. 

The  memory  is  that  faculty  by  which  traces  of  sen- 
sations and  ideas  recur,  or  are  recalled,  in  the  same 
order  and  proportion,  accurately  or  nearly,  in  which 
they  were  once  actually  presented.  The  rudiments 
of  memory  are  laid  in  the  perpetual  recurrence  of  the 
same  impressions,  or  groups  of  impressions.  These, 
by  the  operation  of  the  retentive  power,  leave  traces  or 
relics,  and  by  the  operation  of  the  associative  power, 
these  are  united  in  the  order  in  which  they  were  pre- 


MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY.  71 

sented  to  the  mind.  The  single  sensible  impressions, 
and  small  groups  of  them  being  few  in  comparison 
with  all  the  large  groups,  they  recur  the  most  fre- 
quently, so  as  sooner ,  to  produce  the  elements  of 
memory. 

Suppose  a  person  to  have  so  far  advanced  in  life  as 
to  have  acquired  all  these  elements  ;  that  is,  he  has 
ideas  of  the  common  appearances  and  occurrences  of 
life,  under  a  considerable  variety  of  subordinate  circum- 
stances, which  would  readily  recur  to  his  mind  by 
slight  causes  :  he  will  be  thus  easily  enabled  to  retrace 
other  occurrences,  for  these  will  consist  either  of  the 
old  impressions  variously  combined,  or  of  new  ones  in 
some  way  or  other  connected  with  them.  This  may 
be  exemplified  and  explained  by  the  circumstance 
that  it  is  difficult  to  remember  even  well-known  words 
which  have  no  connection  with  each  other ;  and  still 
more  so  words  which  are  neither  familiar  nor  formed 
according  to  familiar  analogies ;  but  that,  on  the  other 
hand,  persons  acquainted  with  any  science  or  art,  very 
easily  retain  facts  connected  with  it  which  were  pre- 
viously unknown.  The  recollection  of  ideas  is  also 
greatly  aided  by  the  connection  of  wordsj  both  with 
them  and  with  the  original  impressions  :  for  words 
being  from  the  constant  use  of  language,  familiar  to 
persons  of  moderate  mental  culture,  even  in  various 
combinations,  they  are  easily  retained,  and  most 
materially  assist  in  producing  the  recurrence  of  the 
corresponding  ideas.  And  thus  when  a  person  is 
relating  a  past  fact,  the  ideas  do  in  some  cases  suggest 
the  words,  and  in  others  the  words  suggest  the  ideas. 
Hence  illiterate  persons,  other  things  being  equal,  do 
not  remember  as  well  as  others. 


72  MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

Ideas  of  recollection  differ  from  those  of  imagination 
principally  in  the  readiness  and  strength  of  the  asso- 
ciations ;  but  partly,  and  in  most  cases  almost  entirely, 
by  the  connection  of  the  former  with  known  and  al- 
lowed facts ;  by  various  methods  of  reasoning,  appro- 
priate to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  case,  and 
by  recollecting  that  we  had  before  considered  them  as 
recollections,  &c.  All  persons  are,  at  one  time  or 
other,  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  trains  of  vivid  ideas 
succeeding  each  other  readily  and  rapidly,  are  ideas  of 
recollection  or  imagination,  that  is,  mere  reveries ; 
and  the  more  they  agitate  the  matter  in  their  minds, 
the  more  does  the  reverie  appear  like  a  recollection. 
Persons  of  irritable  nervous  systems  are  more  subject 
to  such  fallacies  than  others  ;  and  insane  persons  often 
impose  upon  themselves  in  this  way,  namely  by  the 
vividness  of  their  ideas  and  associations  produced  by 
bodily  causes.  The  same  thing  often  happens  in 
dreams. 

Memory  depends  greatly  upon  the  state  of  the  brain. 
Concussions  and  other  disorders  of  the  brain,  excess 
in  sensual  pleasures,  and  the  use  of  spirituous  liquors, 
impair  it ;  and  it  is  recovered  by  degrees  as  the  causes 
which  affected  the  brain  are  removed.  In  like  man- 
ner dreams,  which  happen  in  a  peculiar  state  of  the 
brain,  namely,  during  sleep,  vanish  as  soon  as  vigil- 
ance, a  different  state,  takes  place.  But  if  they  be  re- 
collected immediately  upon  waking,  and  thus  connect- 
ed with  a  state  of  vigilance,  they  may  be  remembered. 

When  a  person  desires  to  recollect  a  thing  that  has 
escaped  him,  suppose  the  name  of  a  visible  object,  he 
recalls  the  visible  idea  or  some  other  associate,  again 


MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY.  T3 

and  again  by  a  voluntary  power,  and  thus  at  last 
brings  in  the  required  association  and  idea.  But  if 
the  desire  be  very  great,  it  changes  the  state  of  the 
mental  organs,  and  has  an  opposite  effect,  so  that  the 
desired  idea  does  not  recur  till  all  has  subsided,  and 
perhaps  not  even  then.  The  excellence  of  the  memory 
consists  partly  in  its  strength  and  accuracy  of  reten- 
tion, partly  in  the  readiness  of  recollection.  The  for- 
mer principally  depends  on  the  strength  and  accuracy 
of  perception,  on  attention  to  our  sensations,  and  partly 
upon  the  associative  faculty.  The  latter  depends  en- 
tirely upon  the  strength  and  peculiar  biases  of  the 
operations  of  that  power.  The  intellectual  faculties 
depend  greatly  upon  the  memory.  Hence  though 
some  persons  may  have  strong  memories  with  weak 
judgments,  yet  no  man  can  have  a  strong  judgment 
with  a  weak  original  power  of  retaining  and  remem- 
bering. 

OF   THE   IMAGINATION. 

Imagination  is  a  power  compounded  of  several 
others.  It  includes  conception,  or  simple  apprehension, 
which  enables  us  to  form  a  notion  of  those  former  objects 
of  perception  or  of  knowledge,  out  of  which  we  are  to 
make  a  selection  ;  abstraction,  which  separates  the  se- 
lected materials  from  the  qualities  and  circumstances 
which  are  connected  with  them  in  nature  ;  and  judg- 
ment, or  taste,  which  selects  the  materials  and  directs 
their  combination.  Imagination  is  the  power  which 
gives  birth  to  the  productions  of  the  poet  and  the  paint- 
er, and  we  may  add,  of  genius  in  general. 


74  MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

The  recurrence  of  ideas,  especially  visible  and  audi- 
ble ones,  in  a  vivid  manner,  but  without  any  regard 
to  the  order  observed  in  past  facts,  is  ascribed  to  the 
power  of  imagination  or  fancy.  Every  succeeding 
thought  is  the  result,  either  of  some  new  impression 
or  of  an  association  with  the  preceding.  It  is  impos- 
sible indeed  to  attend  so  minutely  to  the  succession  of 
our  ideas  as  to  distinguish  and  to  remember  for  a  suf- 
ficient time,  the  very  impression  or  association  Avhich 
gave  rise  to  each  thought  or  conception ;  but  we  can 
do  this  as  far  as  it  can  be  expected  to  be  done,  and  in 
so  great  a  variety  of  instances,  that  we  have  full  right 
to  infer  it  in  all.  A  reverie  differs  from  imagination 
only  in  this,  that  the  person  being  more  attentive  to  his 
own  thoughts,  and  less  disturbed  by  external  objects, 
more  of  his  trains  of  ideas  are  deducible  from  asso- 
ciation, and  fewer  from  new  impressions.  It  is  to  be 
observed,  however,  that  in  all  cases  of  imagination  and 
reverie,  the  train  and  complexion  of  the  thoughts  de- 
pend, in  part,  upon  the  actual  state  of  the  body  or 
mind.  For  instance,  a  pleasurable  or  painful  state  of 
the  stomach,  joy  or  grief,  will  make  all  the  thoughts 
tend  to  the  same  cast.  Objects  and  circumstances 
may  be  so  disposed  as  to  give  to  reverie  a  pleasing  or 
pensive  direction.  The  mind  is  more  apt  to  depart 
from  serious  meditation  in  a  gaudy  chapel  than  in  the 
solemn  gloom  of  a  cathedral. 

OF    THE    UNDERSTANDING. 

By  this  power  we  contemplate  sensations  and  ideas 
considered  as  such,  and  the  various  operations  of  the 


MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY.  75 

mind,  discern  the  relations  which  exist  among  the  ob- 
jects of  perception  and  thought,  pursue  truth,  and  as- 
sent to,  or  dissent  from,  propositions. 

Consciousness  is  the  capacity  of  the  mind  by  which 
it  is  capable  of  being  affected  by  sensorial  changes, 
whether  sensible,  ideal,  or  motory.  Consciousness  is, 
in  fact,  the  notion  of  the  mind  itself;  and  the  term  is, 
in  the  most  appropriate  sense,  applied  to  that  state  by 
which  every  mental  change  or  operation  is  attended, 
if  it  in  any  degree  excites  the  notice  of  the  mind.  It 
is  by  consciousness  alone  that  we  have  any  knowledge 
of  the  other  powers  of  the  mind ;  and  when  directed 
to  their  operations,  the  appellation  is  peculiarly  ap- 
propriate. When  it  is  excited  by  sensible  changes  it 
is  usually  called  perception.  We  are  conscious  of 
ideas  and  sensations ;  we  perceive  the  external  objects 
which  produce  impressions  on  our  senses.  When  the 
notice  of  the  mind  is  continued  to  any  particular  ob- 
ject, or  to  a  continual  succession  of  objects,  whether 
or  not  that  continuance  is  caused  by  volition,  the  state 
of  mind  is  called  attention.  When  it  is  brought  so 
far  under  the  direction  of  the  mind  that  it  can  be  di- 
rected at  will,  then  it  is  with  propriety  termed  the 
power  of  attention. 

When  the  attention  is  exclusively  directed  to  some 
object  of  thought,  separate  from  others,  or  to  some 
component  part  of  the  subject  separated  from  its  other 
parts,  then  it  is  termed  abstraction,  by  which  we  un- 
derstand separate  attention. 

When  the  attention  is  directed  to  our  perceptions, 
or  in  other  words,  to  the  qualities,  circumstances,  and 
changes  of  external  objects,  as  they  aflect  the  mind 


76 


MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


through  the  medium  of  the  sensitive  and  associative 
powers,  it  is  termed  observation.  The  term  is  one  of 
such  familiar  and  generally  appropriate  use,  that  it 
can  scarcely  be  misunderstood.  It  is  never  applied  to 
attention  to  ideas  of  absent  objects  of  sense,  but  solely 
to  attention  directed  to  the  present  objects  of  percep- 
tion, leading  to  thought  respecting  them. 

When  the  attention  of  the  mind  is  directed  to  its 
own  states,  affections  and  operations,  it  is  termed  re- 
flection. As  observation  commonly  implies  some  ex- 
ercise of  the  reasoning  faculty,  so  also  does  reflection  ; 
but  simple  attention  to  our  own  thoughts  and  feelings, 
and  to  our  manner  of  thinking  and  feeling,  is  in  the 
strictest  sense  reflection.  In  philosophical  investiga- 
tions it  seems  best  to  limit  the  word  to  the  attentive 
consideration  of  what  passes  within,  of  the  states, 
affections  and  operations  of  the  mind. 

When  the  mind  is  employed  in  the  consideration  of 
any  object  of  thought,  it  is  said  to  be  thinking.  In  a 
wide  sense,  the  word  includes  every  intellectual  opera- 
tion ;  in  other  words  whatever  may  be  termed  an  act 
of  the  understanding,  that  is,  every  act  of  the  mind, 
properly  so  called,  except  sensation  and  feeling.  The 
term  thought  has  two  significations,  the  act  of  think- 
ing, and  the  subject  of  thinking.  Considered  as  de- 
noting the  subject  of  thinking,  it  merely  corresponds 
with  notion,  opinion,  &c. 

When  the  mind  is  left  in  its  trains  of  thought  very 
much  to  the  operation  of  the  associative  power,  with- 
out any  direct  restraint  upon  it  from  without  or  with- 
in, its  state  is  termed  meditation,  which  bears  nearly 
the  same  relation  to  the  understanding,  that  reverie 


MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY.  77 

does  to  the  imagination.  The  term  is,  however,  used 
where  the  mind  is  more  actively  engaged,  particularly 
on  serious  subjects  of  thought.  It  does  not  very 
greatly  differ  in  its  import  from  contemplation,  but 
this  term  often  appears  more  particularly  to  refer  to 
the  fields  of  observation  rather  than  of  refection. 

The  characteristic  faculty  or  capacity  of  the  under- 
standing, is  the  power  of  comparing  the  different  ob- 
jects of  thought,  and  discerning  the  various  relations 
which  exist  among  them ;  such  as  those  of  identity, 
similarity,  equality,  proximity,  continuity  in  time  and 
place,  cause  and  effect,  &c.  When  we  perceive  these 
agreements  or  disagreements  we  form  a  judgment,  and 
this  is  called  the  act  of  judging.  The  judgment 
clothed  in  words  is  called  a  proposition.  Every  pro- 
position expresses  a  connection  existing  in  the  mind 
of  the  speaker,  between  the  ideas  denoted  by  the  terms 
of  the  proposition,  as  bearing  to  each  other  the  relation 
declared  by  the  proposition.  Those  operations  of  the 
understanding  which  are  denominated  reasoning  are 
of  the  same  nature  with  judgment. 

Such  is  a  brief  outline  of  the  science  of  Mental  Phi- 
losophy. Anything  like  a  complete  system  of  this 
important  branch  of  human  knowledge  would  of  course 
be  inconsistent  with  the  limits  of  the  present  volume. 
What  we  have  chiefly  aimed  at  has  been  to  give  such 
a  view  of  the  leading  principles  of  our  mental  consti- 
tution as  may  assist  to  direct  the  thoughts  of  the  in- 
quirer into  the  right  channel,  and  serve  as  a  founda- 
tion for  his  own  investigations.  The  grand  point  in 
mental  as  well  as  in  physical  science  is,  to  observe 
correctly,  to  discriminate  accurately,  and  to  generalize 
with  caution. 


78 


MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY. 


A  sound  and  comprehensive  acquaintance  with  the 
laws  of  our  mental  frame  is  of  incalculable  utility  in 
the  business  of  education.  It  gives  to  those  who  con- 
duct it,  correct  views  as  to  its  objects.  It  shows  the 
vast  importance  of  early  impressions,  and  of  early 
attention  to  the  culture  of  habits  and  dispositions.  It 
points  out  the  best  means  for  forming  those  characteris- 
tics of  intellect  and  affection  which  are  essential  to 
happiness  and  usefulness.  In  addition  to  these  ad- 
vantages, it  enables  us  more  correctly  to  appreciate 
the  inestimable  value  of  Christianity,  and  the  strength 
of  the  evidences  on  which  it  is  founded.  It  leads  to 
the  most  interesting  conclusions  respecting  the  worth 
of  Christian  precepts,  and  the  exalted  nature  of  Chris- 
tian motives.  It  shows  us  how  Christianity  "  recon- 
ciles human  nature  to  itself,"  and  it  shows  that  the 
truth  of  it  rests  upon  the  well-known  laws  of  the 
human  mind.  It  directly  helps  the  cause  of  religion  in 
general,  by  rendering  more  obvious  the  reasons  of  the 
divine  dispensation,  and  by  the  various  displays  of  good- 
ness and  wisdom  which  our  mental  phenomena  present 
to  us.  It  tends,  beyond  all  other  branches  of  philoso- 
phical investigation,  to  correct,  enlarge,  and  exalt  our 
conceptions  of  the  attributes  and  character  of  the  Su- 
preme Being,  and  to  lay  a  foundation  for  the  most 
rational  and  exalted  piety. 


LOGIC. 

LOGIC  is  the  science  of  Reasoning.  Its  purpose  is 
to  direct  the  intellectual  powers  in  the  investigation 
of  truth,  and  in  the  communication  of  it  to  others.  It 
searches  out  the  principles  on  which  argumentation  is 
conducted,  and  furnishes  rules  to  secure  the  mind 
from  error  in  its  deductions.  It  instructs  us  in  the 
right  use  of  terms,  and  distinguishes  their  various 
kinds.  It  analyzes  the  structure  of  arguments,  and 
shows  how  their  truth  may  be  discovered,  or  their  fal- 
lacy detected.  Lastly,  it  describes  those  methods  of 
classification  and  arrangement  which  will  best  enable 
us  to  retain  and  apply  the  knowledge  which  we  have 
acquired. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  the  system  of  logic, 
is  one  of  those  few  theories  which  have  been  begun 
and  perfected  by  the  same  individual.  The  history 
of  its  discovery,  as  far  as  the  main  principles  of  the 
science  are  concerned,  properly  begins  and  ends  with 
Aristotle. 

OF   TEEMS,  AND   THE    OPERATIONS    OF   THE    METO. 

There  are  three  operations  of  the  mind  which  are 
concerned  in  argument.  1st,  Simple  Apprehension; 
2d,  Judgment;  3d,  Discourse  or  Reasoning. — 1.  Sim- 


80  LOGIC. 

pie  Apprehension  is  the  notion  or  conception  of  any 
object  in  the  mind  analogous  to  the  perception  of  the 
senses.  It  is  either  incomplex  or  complex.  Incom- 
plex  apprehension  is  of  one  object,  or  of  several  with- 
out any  relation  being  perceived  between  them,  as  of 
a  man,  horse,  cards  :  complex  is  of  several  with  such 
a  relation,  as  of  a  man  on  horseback,  a  pack  of  cards. 
2.  Judgment  is  the  comparing  together  in  the  mind 
two  of  the  notions  or  ideas,  whether  complex  or  in- 
complex,  which  are  the  objects  of  apprehension,  and 
pronouncing  that  they  agree  or  disagree  with  each 
other,  or  that  one  of  them  belongs  or  does  not  belong 
to  the  other.  Judgment  is  therefore  either  affirmative 
or  negative.  3.  Reasoning  or  Discourse  is  the  act  of 
proceeding  from  one  judgment  to  another  founded 
upon  it,  or  the  result  of  it. 

Words  possess  no  natural,  inherent  aptness  to  de- 
note the  particular  things  to  which  they  are  applied, 
rather  than  others  ;  but  acquire  this  aptness  wholly  by 
convention,  or  general  agreement  among  mankind. 
Had  the  connexion  between  the  name  and  the  thing 
been  established  by  nature,  there  could  have  been  but 
one  language  in  the  world.  Language  affords  the 
signs  by  which  the  operations  of  the  mind  are  ex- 
pressed and  communicated. 

An  act  of  apprehension  expressed  in  language,  is 
called  a  Term :  an  act  of  judgment  a  Proposition:  an 
act  of  reasoning  an  Argument  or  Syllogism — as,  for 
example, 

"  Every  dispensation  of  Providence  is  beneficial, 
Afflictions  are  dispensations  of  Providence, 
Therefore  afflictions  are  beneficial," — is  a  Syllogism, 
the   act   of  reasoning  being  indicated  by  the   word 


LOGIC.  81 

'therefore."  It  consists  of  three  propositions,  each 
of  which  necessarily  has  two  terms,  as  "  dispensation 
of  Providence,"  "  beneficial,"  &c. 

A  syllogism  being  thus  resolvable  into  three  propo- 
sitions, and  each  proposition  containing  two  terms,  of 
these  terms,  that  which  is  spoken  of,  is  called  the  Sub- 
ject ;  that  which  is  said  of  it,  the  Predicate :  and 
these  two  together  are  called  the  terms,  or  extremes, 
because,  logically,  the  subject  is  placed  first,  and  the 
predicate  last ;  and  in  the  middle,  the  Copula,  which 
indicates  the  act  of  judgment,  as  by  it  the  predicate  is 
affirmed  or  denied  of  the  subject.  It  is  evident  that  a 
term  may  consist  either  of  one  word  or  several. 
Whatever  term  can  be  affirmed  of  several  things, 
must  express  either  their  whole  essence  which  is 
called  the  Species,  or  a  part  of  their  essence,  namely, 
either  the  material  part,  which  is  called  the  Genus,  or 
the  formal  and  distinguishing  part,  which  is  called  in 
logic,  Differentia,  in  common  discourse,  characteristic. 
Genus  and  Differentia,  put  together,  make  up  the 
Species  ;  for  instance,  "  rational"  and  "  animal"  con- 
stitute "  man ;"  so  that  in  reality  the  Species  contains 
or  implies  the  Genus. 

Generalization  is  one  of  the  purposes  to  which  the 
process  of  abstraction  is  applied ;  when  we  draw  off 
or  contemplate  separately,  any  part  of  an  object  pre- 
sented to  the  mind,  disregarding  the  rest,  we  are  said 
to  abstract  that  part.  Thus  a  person  might,  when  a 
rose  was  before  his  eyes  or  mind,  make  the  scent  a 
distinct  object  of  attention,  laying  aside  all  thought  of 
the  color,  form,  &c.  But  if,  in  contemplating  several  ob- 
jects, and  finding  that  they  agree  in  certain  points,  we 
F 


82  LOGIC. 

abstract  the  circumstances  of  agreement,  disregarding 
the  differences,  and  give  to  all  and  each  of  these  ob- 
jects a  name  applied  to  them  in  respect  of  their  agree- 
ment, that  is,  a  common  name,  as  a  "  rose,"  we  are 
then  said  to  generalize. 

An  individual  is  so  called,  because  it  is  incapable 
of  logical  division,  which  is  a  metaphorical  expression 
to  signify  the  distinct  or  separate  enumeration  of  sev- 
eral things  signified  by  one  common  name.  This  pro- 
cess is  directly  opposed  to  generalization.  Definition 
is  another  metaphorical  word,  which  literally  signifies 
"  laying  down  a  boundary  ;"  and  is  used  in  logic  to 
signify  an  expression  which  explains  any  term  so  as 
to  separate  it  from  anything  else,  as  a  boundary  separ- 
ates fields. 

Terms  are  either  singular  or  universal.  A  singu- 
lar term  is  the  proper  name  of  some  individual  per- 
son, place,  or  thing,  as  Napoleon,  Boston,  &c.  Uni- 
versal terms  are  names  indiscriminately  applied  to 
many  individual  beings  by  reason  of  certain  proper- 
ties which  they  possess  in  common :  as  man,  city, 
river,  mountain.  Universal  terms  make  the  greatest 
part  of  the  words  of  every  language.  Their  significa- 
tion is  designedly  imperfect,  comprising  only  the 
most  common  and  obvious  properties  of  things.  They 
are  abridgments  of  language,  happily  contrived  to  fa- 
cilitate and  expedite  the  intercourse  of  society. 

OF    PROPOSITIONS. 

A  proposition  is  a  verbal  representation  of  some 
perception,  act,  or  affection  of  the  mind;  it  is  judg- 


LOGIC.  S3 

ment  expressed  in  words.  Logically,  it  is  a  sentence 
indicative,  that  is,  either  affirming  or  denying ;  this 
excludes  commands  and  questions.  Propositions  are 
divided  into  categorical  and  hypothetical.  A  categori- 
cal proposition  asserts  a  thing  simply  or  purely,  as 
"  Brutus  killed  Csesar."  A  hypothetical  proposition 
asserts  it  conditionally,  as  "  if  Csesar  was  a  tyrant,  he 
deserved  death."  There  are  other  species  of  proposi- 
tions, as  affirmative,  negative,  simple,  complex,  modal, 
&c.  An  identical  proposition  is  one  whose  subject 
and  predicate  express  the  same  idea,  as  "  Richard  is 
Richard  ;  twelve  are  a  dozen."  Sometimes  a  proposi- 
tion is  identical  in  shape  though  not  so  in  substance, 
as  "  home  is  home,"  by  which  we  understand  "  home 
is  pleasant." 

Two  propositions  are  said  to  be  opposed  to  each 
other,  when,  having  the  same  subject  and  predicate, 
they  differ  in  quantity  or  quality,  or  both ;  as  when 
one  absolutely  denies,  in  whole  or  in  part,  what  the 
other  affirms. 

OF  ARGUMENTS. 

Every  argument  consists  of  two  parts  ;  that  which 
is  to  be  proved,  and  that  by  means  of  which  it  is 
proved.  The  former  is  called,  before  it  is  proved,  the 
Question  ;  when  proved,  the  Conclusion  or  Inference  ; 
that  which  is  used  to  prove  it,  is  called  the  Reason,  if 
stated  last,  as  is  often  done  in  common  discourse.  If 
the  conclusion  be  stated  last,  which  is  the  strict  logi- 
cal form,  then  what  is  employed  to  form  it,  is  called 
the  Premiss. 


84  LOGIC. 

Every  argument,  or  syllogism,  has  three,  and  only 
three  terms.  1.  the  Subject,  or  minor  term ;  2.  the 
Predicate,  or  major  term;  and,  3.  the  middle  term, 
with  which  each  of  them  is  separately  compared  in 
order  to  judge  of  their  agreement  or  disagreement 
with  each  other.  Every  syllogism  has  three  and  only 
three  propositions.  1.  The  major  Premiss,  in  which 
the  major  term  is  compared  with  the  middle ;  2.  the 
minor  Premiss,  in  which  the  minor  term  is  compared 
with  the  middle  ;  and  3,  the  Conclusion,  in  which  the 
minor  term  is  compared  with  the  major.  Every  asser- 
tion accompanied  by  a  reason  why  it  is  made,  con- 
tains  the  elements  of  a  syllogism. 

There  are  various  abridged  forms  of  argument 
which  may  be  easily  expanded  into  regular  syllo- 
gisms ;  such  as  the  Enthymeme,  which  is  a  syllogism 
with  one  premiss  suppressed.  As  all  the  terms  will 
be  found  in  the  remaining  premiss  and  conclusion,  it 
will  be  easy  to  fill  up  the  syllogism  by  supplying  the 
premiss  that  is  wanting,  whether  major  or  minor  ;  as, 
"  Csesar  was  a  tyrant ;  therefore  he  deserved  death." 
"  A  free  nation  must  be  happy ;  therefore  the  Ameri- 
cans must  be  happy."  This  is  the  ordinary  form  of 
speaking  and  writing.  It  is  evident  that  Enthymemes 
may  be  filled  up  hypothetically. 

When  we  have  a  string  of  syllogisms,  in  which  the 
conclusion  of  each  is  made  the  premiss  of  the  next, 
till  we  arrive  at  the  main  and  ultimate  conclusion  of 
all,  we  may  sometimes  state  these  briefly  in  a  form 
called  Sorites,  in  which  the  predicate  of  the  first  pro- 
position is  made  the  subject  of  the  next,  and  so  on  to 
any  length,  till  finally  the  predicate  of  the  last  of  the 


LOGIC.  3D 

premises  is  predicated  in  the  conclusion  of  the  subject 
of  the  first ;  as,  "  The  Indians  are  a  brave  people ; 
brave  people  are  free  ;  free  people  are  happy  ;  there- 
fere  the  Indians  are  happy."  A  Sorites,  then,  has  as 
many  middle  terms  as  there  are  intermediate  propo- 
sitions between  the  first  and  the  last ;  and  consequently 
it  may  be  drawn  out  into  as  many  separate  syllogisms, 

FALLACIES  OR  SOPHISMS. 

By  a  Fallacy  or  Sophism  is  commonly  understood 
any  unsound  mode  of  arguing,  which  appears  to  de- 
mand our  conviction,  and  to  be  decisive  of  the  ques- 
tion in  hand,  when  in  fairness  it  is  not  so.  In  the 
practical  detection  of  each  individual  fallacy,  much 
must  depend  on  natural  and  acquired  acuteness  ;  nor 
can  any  rules  be  given,  the  mere  learning  of  which 
will  enable  us  to  apply  them  with  mechanical  certainty 
and  readiness  ;  but  still  we  shall  find  that  to  take  cor- 
rect general  views  of  the  subject,  and  to  be  familiar- 
ized with  scientific  discussions  of  it,  will  tend,  above 
all  things,  to  engender  such  a  habit  of  mind  as  will 
best  fit  us  for  the  practice. 

Fallacies  are  either  logical  or  non-logical.  In  every 
Fallacy,  the  conclusion  either  does,  or  does  not  follow 
from  the  premises.  When  the  conclusion  does  not 
follow  from  the  premises,  it  is  manifest  that  the  fault  is 
in  the  reasoning,  and  in  that  alone  ;  these,  therefore, 
are  called  Logical  Fallacies,  as  being  properly  viola- 
tions of  those  rules  of  reasoning  which  it  is  the  pro- 
vince of  logic  to  lay  down.  When  the  conclusion 
does  not  follow  from  the  premises,  the  Fallacy  is  called 


86  LOGIC. 

non-logical;  of  which  there  are  two  kinds.  1.  When 
the  premises  are  such  as  ought  not  to  have  been  as- 
sumed. 2.  When  the  conclusion  is  not  the  one 
required,  but  irrelevant,  and  proves,  instead  of  the 
assertion,  some  other  proposition  resembling  it. 

The  petitio  principii,  or  "  begging  the  question," 
takes  place  when  a  premiss,  whether  true  or  false,  is 
either  plainly  equivalent  to  the  conclusion,  or  depends 
on  it  for  its  own  reception.  It  is  to  be  observed,  how- 
ever, that  in  all  correct  reasoning  the  premises  must 
virtually  imply  the  conclusion ;  so  that  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  mark  precisely  the  distinction  between  the  Fal- 
lacy in  question  and  fair  argument :  since  that  may  be 
correct  and  fair  reasoning  to  one  person,  which  would 
be  to  another  begging  the  question ;  and  since,  to  one 
person  the  conclusion  might  be  more  evident  than  the 
premises,  and  to  another  the  reverse.  The  most  plausi- 
ble form  of  this  fallacy  is  "  reasoning  in  a  circle  ;"  as, 
"Napoleon  did  right  because  he  seized  the  govern- 
ment of  France,  and  he  seized  the  government  of 
France  because  it  was  right."  In  such  arguments 
the  circle  may  be  very  great,  that  is,  it  may  consist  of 
a  great  number  of  propositions ;  and  the  greater  the 
circle,  the  more  difficult  is  the  fallacy  of  detection. 

A  very  long  discussion  or  argument  is  one  of  the 
most  effective  veils  of  Fallacy  or  Sophistry.  Like 
poison  it  is  at  once  detected  when  presented  in  a  con- 
centrated form,  but  when  stated  barely  in  a  few  sen- 
tences, a  Fallacy  would  not  deceive  a  child,  although 
it  might  deceive  half  the  world  if  dilated  into  a  volume. 

There  are  certain  kinds  of  argument  recounted  and 
named  by  logical  writers,  which  although  not  Falla- 


LOGIC.  87 

cies  themselves,  become  so  by  being  unfairly  used  ; 
such  as  the  argumentum  ad  kominem,  or  personal 
argument ;  argumentum  ad  verecundiam,  ad  populum, 
&c.,  all  of  them  regarded  as  contra-distinguished  from 
the  fair  argumentum  ad  rem,  or  to  the  point.  The 
argumentum  ad  hominem  is  addressed  to  the  peculiar 
circumstances,  character,  avowed  opinions,  or  past 
conduct  of  the  individual  with  whom  you  are  reason- 
ing, and  therefore  has  a  reference  to  him  only,  and 
does  not  bear  directly  and  absolutely  on  the  real  ques- 
tion. The  argumentum  ad  verecundiam  is  an  appeal 
to  our  reverence  for  some  respected  authority,  some 
venerable  institution,  &c.  ;  the  argumentum  ad  popu- 
lum is  an  appeal  to  the  prejudices,  passions,  &c.  of  the 
multitude  ;  the  argumentum  ad  crumenam  is  an  ap- 
peal to  a  man's  purse  or  private  interest,  &c. 

Fallacies  are  no  where  more  common  than  in  pro- 
tracted controversy,  when  one  of  the  parties,  after 
having  attempted  in  vain  to  maintain  his  position, 
shifts  his  ground  as  covertly  as  possible  to  another, 
instead  of  honestly  giving  up  the  point. 

It  may  not  be  improper  to  remark  that,  logically 
speaking,  Jests  are  Fallacies  ;  that  is,  Fallacies  so  pal- 
pable as  not  to  be  likely  to  deceive  any  one,  but  yet 
bearing  just  that  resemblance  of  argument  which  is 
calculated  to  amuse  by  the  contrast,  in  the  same  man- 
ner that  a  parody  does  by  the  contrast  of  its  levity  with 
the  serious  production  which  it  imitates.  There  is, 
indeed,  something  laughable  even  in  Fallacies  which 
are  intended  for  serious  conviction  when  they  are 
thoroughly  exposed.  There  are  several  kinds  of  jokes 
and  raillery  which  will  be  found  to  correspond  with 


LOGIC. 

the  different  kinds  of  Fallacy.  The  pun,  to  take  the 
simplest  and  most  obvious  case,  is  evidently  a  mock 
argument  founded  on  a  palpable  equivocation  of  the 
middle  term ;  and  the  rest,  in  like  manner,  will  be 
found  to  correspond  to  the  respective  Fallacies,  and  to 
be  imitations  of  serious  argument. 

INDUCTION. 

This  is  a  process  of  reasoning  by  which  we  de- 
duce from  an  observation  of  certain  known  cases 
an  inference  with  respect  to  unknown  ones.  For 
example — "  From  an  examination  of  the  history  of 
several  tyrannies,  and  finding  that  each  of  them  was 
of  short  duration,  we  conclude  that  the  same  is  like- 
ly to  be  the  case  with  all  tyrannies."  The  sup- 
pressed major  premiss  being  easily  supplied  by  the 
hearer,  namely,  "  that  which  belongs  to  the  tyrannies 
in  question  is  likely  to  belong  to  all."  Induction 
therefore,  as  an  argument,  may  be  stated  syllogistically ; 
but  as  a  process  of  inquiry  with  a  view  to  obtain  the 
premiss  of  that  argument,  it  is  out  of  the  province  of 
Logic.  Whether  the  Induction  in  this  last  sense  has 
been  sufficiently  ample,  that  is,  takes  in  a  sufficient 
number  of  individual  cases  ;  whether  the  character  of 
those  cases  has  been  correctly  ascertained,  and  how 
far  the  individuals  we  have  examined  are  likely  to 
resemble,  in  this  or  that  circumstance,  the  rest  of  the 
class,  are  points  that  require  great  judgment  and  cau- 
tion ;  but  this  judgment  and  caution  are  not  to  be 
aided  by  logic,  because  they  are,  in  reality,  employed 
in  deciding  whether  or  not  it  is  fair  and  allowable  to 


LOGIC.  89 

lay  down  your  premises,  that  is,  whether  you  are 
authorized  or  not  to  assert  that  what  is  true  of  the 
individuals  you  have  examined  is  true  of  the  whole 
class,  and  that  this  or  that  is  true  of  those  individuals. 
Now  the  rules  of  Logic  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
truth  or  falsity  of  the  premises,  but  merely  teach  us  to 
decide  whether  the  conclusion  follows  fairly  from  the 
premiss  or  not. 

Whether  the  premises  may  fairly  be  assumed  or 
not,  is  a  point  which  cannot  be  decided  without  a  com- 
petent knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  subject.  For 
example,  in  Natural  Philosophy,  in  which  the  circum- 
stances that  in  any  case  affect  the  result,  are  usually 
far  more  clearly  ascertained,  a  single  instance  is  often 
accounted  a  sufficient  Induction.  Thus  having  once 
discovered  that  an  individual  magnet  will  attract  iron, 
we  are  authorized  to  conclude  that  this  property  is 
universal.  In  the  affairs  of  human  life  a  much  more 
extensive  induction  is  required.  A  naturalist  from 
examination  of  many  horned  animals,  as  sheep,  cows, 
&c.,  finds  that  they  have  cloven  feet.  Now  his  skill 
as  a  naturalist  is  to  be  shown  in  judging  whether 
these  animals  are  likely  to  resemble  in  the  form  of 
their  feet  all  other  horned  animals ;  and  it  is  the  exer- 
cise of  this  j  udgment  together  with  the  examination  of 
individuals,  that  constitutes  what  is  usually  meant  by 
the  Inductive  Process,  which  is  that  by  which  we 
gain  new  truths,  and  which  is  not  connected  with 
Logic,  being  not  what  is  strictly  called  Reasoning,  but 
Investigation.  But  when  this  major  premiss  is  grant- 
ed him,  and  is  combined  with  the  minor,  namely,  that 
the  animals  he  has  examined  have  cloven  feet,  then  he 


yU  LOGIC. 

draws  the  conclusion  logically,  namely,  that  the  feet 
of  all  horned  animals  are  cloven.  Again,  if  from 
several  times  meeting  with  ill  luck  on  a  Friday  any 
one  concluded  that  Friday,  universally,  is  an  unlucky 
day,  we  should  object  to  his  Induction ;  and  yet  it 
would  not  be,  as  an  Argument,  illogical ;  since  the 
conclusion  follows  fairly  if  you  grant  his  implied  pre- 
miss, that  the  events  which  happened  on  those  particu- 
lar Fridays  are  such  as  must  happen  on  all  Fridays. 
But  we  should  object  to  his  laying  down  this  premiss, 
and  therefore  should  justly  say  that  his  Induction  was 
faulty,  though  his  Argument  was  correct. 

INFERENCE    AND    PROOF. 

Reasoning  comprehends  inferring  and  proving, 
which  are  not  two  different  things,  but  the  same 
thing  regarded  in  two  different  points  of  view,  as 
the  road  from  Boston  to  Salem,  and  the  road  from 
Salem  to  Boston.  He  who  infers,  proves,  and  he 
who  proves,  infers ;  but  the  word  "  infer"  fixes  the 
mind  first  on  the  premises,  and  then  on  the  con- 
clusion. The  word  "  prove,"  on  the  contrary,  leads 
the  mind  from  the  conclusion  to  the  premises.  Hence 
the  substantives  derived  from  these  words  respectively 
are  often  used  to  express  that  which  on  each  occasion 
is  last  in  the  mind ;  Inference  being  often  used  to  sig- 
nify the  Conclusion  or  proposition  inferred ;  and  Proof 
to  signify  the  Premises.  To  Infer  is  the  business  of 
the  Philosopher,  to  Prove,  that  of  the  Advocate.  The 
former,  from  the  great  mass  of  known  and  admitted 
truths  wishes  to  elicit  any  valuable  additional  truth 


LOGIC.  91 

whatever,  that  has  hitherto  been  unperceived.  The 
Advocate,  on  the  other  hand,  has  a  proposition  put 
before  him  which  he  is  to  maintain  as  well  as  he  can ; 
his  business,  therefore,  is  tojind  middle  terms :  that  of 
the  Philosopher  is  to  combine  and  select  known  facts 
or  principles,  suitable  for  gaining  from  them,  conclu- 
sions which,  though  implied  in  the  premises,  were 
before  unperceived  :  in  other  words,  for  making  Logi- 
cal Discourses.  Such  are  the  respective  preparatory 
processes  in  these  two  branches  of  study.  They  are 
widely  different :  they  arise  from,  and  generate  very 
different  habits  of  mind,  and  require  a  very  different 
kind  of  training  and  precepts.  The  Lawyer  or  con- 
troversialist, or  in  short,  the  Rhetorician  in  general, 
who  is  in  his  own  province,  the  most  skilful,  may  be 
but  ill  fitted  for  philosophical  investigation,  even 
where  there  is  no  observation  wanted,  when  the  facts 
are  already  ascertained  for  him.  And  again,  the 
ablest  Philosopher  may  make  an  indifferent  disputant, 
especially  since  the  arguments  which  have  led  him 
to  the  conclusion,  and  have  with  him  the  most  weight, 
may  not  perhaps  be  the  most  powerful  in  controversy. 
The  most  common  fault,  however,  by  far,  is  to  forget 
the  Philosopher,  and  assume  the  Advocate  improper- 
ly ;  it  is  therefore  of  great  use  to  dwell  on  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  two  branches. 

VERBAL  AND  REAL  QUESTIONS. 

Every  Question  that  can  arise  is  in  fact  a  question 
whether  a  certain  Predicate  is,  or  is  not,  applicable 
to  a  certain  subject.  But  sometimes  the  question 


92 


LOGIC. 


turns  on  the  meaning  and  extent  of  the  terms  em- 
ployed, sometimes  on  the  things  signified  by  them. 
If  it  be  made  to  appear,  therefore,  that  the  opposite 
sides  of  a  certain  question  may  be  held  by  persons 
not  differing  in  their  opinion  of  the  matter  in  hand, 
then  that  question  may  be  pronounced  verbal,  as 
depending  on  the  different  senses  in  which  they 
respectively  employ  the  terms.  If,  on  the  contrary, 
it  appears  that  they  employ  the  terms  in  the  same 
sense,  but  still  differ  as  to  the  application  of  one  of 
them  to  the  other,  then  it  may  be  pronounced  that  the 
question  is  Real,  that  they  differ  in  opinion  of  the 
thing  in  question. 

If,  for  example,  two  persons  contend  whether  Napo- 
leon deserves  to  be  called  a  great  man,  and  it  appears 
that  one  includes  under  the  term  "  great,"  disinterested 
patriotism,  and  on  that  ground  excludes  Napoleon 
from  the  class,  as  wanting  in  that  quality ;  and  that 
the  other  disputant  also  gives  him  no  credit  for  that 
quality,  but  understands  no  more  by  the  term  "  great" 
than  high  intellectual  qualities,  energy  of  character, 
and  brilliant  actions,  it  would  follow  that  the  parties 
do  not  differ  in  opinion  except  as  to  the  use  of  a  term, 
and  that  the  question  is  Verbal.  If  on  the  other 
hand,  it  appears  that  the  one  does  give  Napoleon 
credit  for  the  patriotism  which  the  other  denies  him, 
both  of  them  including  that  idea  in  the  term  "  great," 
then  the  question  is  Real. 

It  is  by  no  means  to  be  supposed  that  all  Verbal 
Questions  are  trifling  or  frivolous.  It  is  often  of  the 
highest  importance  to  settle  correctly  the  meaning  of 
a  word,  either  according  to  ordinary  use,  or  according 


LOGIC.  93 

to  the  meaning  of  some  particular  writer  or  class  of 
men  ;  but  when  Verbal  Questions  are  mistaken  for 
Real,  much  confusion  of  thought  and  unprofitable 
wrangling  are  commonly  the  result.  Nor  is  it  always 
so  easy  and  simple  a  task  as  at  first  sight  it  might  ap- 
pear, to  distinguish  them  from  each  other ;  for  several 
objects  to  which  one  common  name  is  applied,  will  often 
have  many  points  of  difference,  and  yet  that  name 
may  perhaps  be  applied  to  them  all  in  the  same  sense, 
and  may  fairly  be  regarded  as  the  genus  they  come 
under. 

^'  DEMONSTRATION. 

A  Demonstration  is  a  concatenation  of  syllogisms, 
all  whose  premises  are  definitions  of  self-evident  truths, 
or  propositions  previously  established.  Demonstra- 
tion serves  as  an  infallible  guide  to  truth,  and  by 
the  help  of  it,  the  rules  of  Logic  furnish  a  suffi- 
cient criterion  for  distinguishing  between  truth  and 
falsehood.  For  since  every  proposition  that  can  be 
demonstrated  is  necessarily  true,  he  is  able  to  dis- 
tinguish truth  from  falsehood  who  can  with  cer- 
tainty judge  when  a  proposition  is  truly  demonstrated. 
To  judge  of  the  validity  of  a  demonstration  we  must 
be  able  to  distinguish  whether  the  definitions  that  enter 
into  it  are  genuine,  and  truly  descriptive  of  the  ideas 
which  they  are  meant  to  exhibit ;  whether  the  propo- 
sitions assumed  without  proofs  as  intuitive  truths, 
have  really  that  self-evidence  to  which  they  lay  claim  ; 
whether  the  syllogisms  are  drawn  up  in  due  form, 
and  agreeable  to  the  laws  of  argumentation ;  in  fine, 


£''*  LOGIC. 

whether  they  are  combined  together  in  a  just  and 
orderly  manner,  so  that  no  demonstrable  propositions 
serve  anywhere  as  premises  unless  they  are  conclu- 
sions of  previous  syllogisms. 

When  a  proposition  is  demonstrated,  we  are  sure 
of  its  truth.  When  on  the  contrary,  our  ideas  are 
such  as  have  no  visible  connexion  or  repugnance,  and 
therefore  furnish  not  the  proper  means  of  tracing  their 
agreement  or  disagreement,  then  we  are  sure  that 
exact  knowledge  is  unattainable. 

OF    ANALOGY. 

Analogy  is  the  foundation  of  a  species  of  reasoning 
similar  in  most  respects  to  analytical  induction.  They 
both  proceed  on  the  same  general  principle,  that  na- 
ture is  consistent  and  uniform  in  her  operations,  so 
that  from  similar  circumstances  similar  effects  may  be 
expected;  and  in  proportion  as  the  resemblance  be- 
tween the  two  cases  diminishes,  the  less  confidence 
can  be  placed  in  the  conclusions  made  from  one  to  the 
other.  The  word  Analogy  is  used  with  much  vague- 
ness. Sometimes  it  denotes  only  a  slight  and  distant 
resemblance,  as  that  which  is  found  between  different 
species  of  the  same  genus.  Sometimes  it  implies  a 
correspondence  of  different  relations,  as  that  which 
exists  between  the  fins  of  a  fish  and  the  wings  of  a 
bird  ;  the  latter  bearing  the  same  relation  to  the  air 
that  the  former  does  to  the  water. 

Inductive  and  analogical  reasoning  are  so  similar  in 
their  nature,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  point  out  their  spe- 
cific difference.  The  following  are  the  main  distinc- 


LOGIC.  95 

tions  :  First.  Induction  is  a  process  from  several  indi- 
viduals of  a  class  to  the  whole.  Its  conclusions  there- 
fore, are  always  general.  But  by  analogy  we  argue 
from  one  individual  being,  to  another  of  the  same 
class,  and  from  one  species  to  another.  Secondly : 
the  evidence  employed  in  analogy  is  wholly  indirect 
and  collateral;  the  co-existence  of  two  qualities  in  one 
subject  affording  no  direct  evidence  of  their  co-exist- 
ence in  any  others.  But  in  the  inductive  process  we 
have  direct  evidence  that  the  property  which  we  apply 
to  a  whole  class,  exists  in  many  individuals  of  that 
class. 

Analogy  is  an  unsafe  ground  of  reasoning ;  and  its 
conclusions  should  seldom  be  received  without  some 
degree  of  distrust.  When  things  resemble  each  other 
in  several  important  circumstances,  we  are  apt  to  sup- 
pose the  similitude  more  extensive  than  it  really  is. 
The  following  is  an  example  of  analogical  reasoning. 
We  observe  a  great  similitude  between  our  earth  and 
the  other  planets.  They  all  revolve  round  the  sun  as 
the  earth  does.  They  borrow  their  light  from  the 
sun  as  the  earth  does.  They  revolve  on  their  axes  as 
the  earth  does,  &c.  From  all  this  similitude  it  is  not 
unreasonable  to  think  that  they  maybe  inhabited  as  the 
earth  is. 

There  are  many  subjects,  both  speculative  and 
practical;  about  which  analogy  is  the  only  evidence 
we  can  employ.  When  a  lawyer  is  perplexed  with 
a  case  that  falls  not  fairly  within  the  provisions 
of  any  existing  statute,  and  for  which  his  books  afford 
no  exact  precedent,  he  is  placed  under  the  necessity 
of  tracing  remote  analogies  and  correspondencies  be- 
tween this  case  and  others  within  his  knowledge,  and 


96  LOGIC. 

of  forming  his  method  of  procedure  by  the  equivocal 
evidence  furnished  by  such  investigation.  To  reason 
correctly  on  subjects  of  this  nature  often  requires 
more  caution  and  discrimination  than  are  usually  de- 
manded in  reasoning  on  the  evidence  of  testimony  or 
experience.  It  is  by  the  urging  of  different  analogies 
that  the  contention  of  the  bar  is  chiefly  carried  on,  and 
it  is  in  the  comparison,  adjustment,  and  reconciliation 
of  these  with  one  another,  that  the  sagacity  and  wisdom 
of  the  court,  are  seen  and  exercised.  Analogy,  on  ac- 
count of  the  uncertainty  which  attends  its  conclusions, 
is  rarely  employed  in  scientific  investigations. 

DISPOSITION  OR  METHOD. 

Method,  in  Logic,  is  a  proper  classification  and  ar- 
rangement of  our  thoughts  on  any  subject,  either  to 
facilitate  the  discovery  of  new  truths,  or  to  assist  us  in 
communicating  to  others,  truths  already  known.  The 
disposition  best  adapted  to  the  investigation  of  truth  is 
the  Analytic  Method,  which  is  therefore  denominated 
the  method  of  invention.  That  disposition  which  is 
best  suited  to  the  communication  of  knowledge,  is  the 
Synthetic  Method,  which  for  this  reason  has  been 
called  the  method  of  instruction.  In  both  of  these 
methods,  ideas  are  arranged  in  such  order  as  to  ex- 
hibit their  mutual  connexions  and  relations.  . 

Analysis  signifies  an  operation  by  which  some  pro- 
cess of  art  is  retraced,  or  some  compound  subject  is 
reduced  to  its  elementary  parts.  Synthesis  implies 
the  act  of  collecting  or  putting  together.  By  the  first 
we  begin  \vith  the  whole,  and  proceed  by  successive 
steps  to  the  parts  of  which  it  is  composed.  By  the 


LOGIC.  97 

last,  we  begin  with  the  parts,  or  the  most  general 
principles,  and  proceed  by  combining  them  in  due 
order,  to  make  up  the  whole.  Analysis  and  Synthe- 
sis are  terms  of  frequent  use  in  many  sciences,  but 
they  have  not  invariably  the  same  signification  affixed 
to  them.  They  always,  however,  denote  opposite  pro- 
cesses, one  beginning  where  the  other  terminates  ;  and 
they  reciprocally  explain  each  other.  A  species  is 
formed  by  analyzing  individuals ;  and  a  genus  by  ana- 
lyzing species.  Though  knowledge  is  chiefly  ac- 
quired by  the  analytic  method,  it  is  most  conveniently 
conveyed  to  others  by  the  synthetic.  The  teacher 
uses  one  method,  while  the  pupil  practises  another. 

CONCLUDING    REMARKS. 

The  preceding  outline  of  the  science  of  Logic  will 
enable  the  reader  to  comprehend  the  process  of  correct 
reasoning.  Though  the  understanding  would  be  in- 
capable of  any  high  degree  of  improvement,  without 
the  aid  of  rules  and  principles,  yet  these  are  insuffi- 
cient without  practice  and  experience.  The  powers 
of  the  mind,  like  those  of  the  body,  must  be  strength- 
ened by  use.  The  art  of  reasoning  skilfully,  can  be 
acquired  only  by  a  long  and  careful  exercise  of  the 
reasoning  faculty,  on  different  subjects  and  in  various 
ways.  The  rules  of  Logic  afford  assistance  to  this 
faculty,  not  less  important  than  that  which  our  animal 
strength  derives  from  the  aid  of  mechanical  powers 
and  engines.  They  guide  its  operations,  and  supply 
it  with  suitable  instruments  for  overcoming  the  diffi- 
culties by  which  it  is  impeded  in  its  search  after  truth. 
G 


LANGUAGE. 

LANGUAGE,  in  the  proper  sense,  signifies  the  expres- 
sion of  our  ideas  and  their  various  relations,  by  certain 
articulate  sounds  which  are  used  as  the  signs  of  those 
ideas  and  relations.  In  a  more  general  sense  of  the 
word,  Language  is  sometimes  used  to  denote  all 
sounds  by  which  animals  of  every  kind  express  their 
particular  feelings  and  impulses,  in  a  manner  that  is 
intelligible  to  their  own  species.  Nature  has  endowed 
every  animal  with  powers  sufficient  to  make  known 
all  its  sensations  and  desires,  with  which  it  is  neces- 
sary, for  the  preservation  of  the  individual  or  the 
continuance  of  the  kind,  that  others  of  the  same  species 
should  be  acquainted.  For  this  purpose  the  organs 
of  vocal  animals  are  so  formed,  as  upon  any  par- 
ticular impulse,  to  utter  sounds  of  which,  those  of  the 
same  species,  instinctively  know  the  meaning.  The 
summons  of  the  hen  is  instantly  obeyed  by  the  whole 
brood  of  chickens  ;  and  in  many  others  of  the  irration- 
al tribes,  a  similar  mode  of  communication  may  be 
observed  between  the  parents  and  the  offspring,  and 
between  one  animal  and  its  customary  associate.  But 
it  is  not  among  animals  of  the  same  species  only,  that 
these  instinctive  sounds  are  mutually  understood.  It 
is  as  necessary  for  animals  to  know  the  voices  of  their 
enemies,  as  the  voices  of  their  friends  :  and  the  roar- 


LANGUAGE.  99 

ing  of  the  lion  is  a  sound,  of  which,  previous  to  all 
experience,  every  beast  of  the  forest  is  naturally  afraid. 

Between  these  animal  voices  and  the  language  of 
men,  there  is,  however,  very  little  analogy.  Human 
language  is  capable  of  expressing  ideas  and  notions, 
which  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  the  brutal 
understanding  cannot  conceive.  "  Speech,"  says 
Aristotle,  "  is  made  to  indicate  what  is  expedient,  and 
what  is  inexpedient ;  and  in  consequence  of  this,  what 
is  just  and  what  is  unjust.  It  is  therefore  given  to 
men,  because  it  is  peculiar  to  them  that,  of  good  and 
evil,  just  and  unjust,  they,  only,  possess  a  sense  or  feel- 
ing." 

The  voices  of  brutes  seem  intended  by  nature  to 
express,  not  distinct  ideas  or  moral  conceptions,  but  only 
such  feelings  as  it  is  for  the  good  of  the  species  that 
they  should  have  the  power  of  making  known  ;  and  in 
this,  as  in  all  other  respects,  these  voices  are  analo- 
gous, not  to  our  speaking,  but  to  our  weeping,  laugh- 
ing, singing,  groaning,  screaming,  and  other  natural 
and  audible  expressions  of  appetite  and  passion.  Ano- 
ther difference  between  the  language  of  men  and  the 
voices  of  brutes,  consists  in  articulation,  by  which  the 
former  may  be  resolved  into  distinct  elementary  sounds 
or  syllables  ;  whereas  the  latter,  being  for  the  most 
part  unarticulated,  are  not  capable  of  such  a  resolution. 
Hence  Homer  and  Hesiod  characterize  man  by  the 
epithet  merops,  or  "  voice-dividing,"  as  denoting  a 
power  peculiar  to  the  human  species. 

A  third  difference  between  the  language  of  men  and 
the  significant  cries  of  brute  animals  is,  that  the  for- 
mer is  from  art,  and  the  latter  from  nature.  Every 


100 


LANGUAGE. 


human  language  is  learned  by  imitation,  and  is  intel- 
ligible only  to  those  who  either  inhabit  the  country 
where  it  is  vernacular,  or  have  been  taught  that  lan- 
guage. But  the  voices  of  brutes  are  not  learned  by 
imitation ;  they  are  wholly  instinctive,  and  are  intel- 
ligible to  all  the  animals  of  that  species  by  which  they 
are  uttered,  though  brought  together  from  the  most 
distant  countries  on  earth.  Thus,  a  dog  which  has 
never  heard  another  dog  bark  will,  notwithstanding, 
bark  himself;  and  the  barkings  or  yelps  of  a  Lapland 
dog  will  be  instinctively  understood  by  the  dogs  of 
Spain,  Calabria,  or  any  other  country.  But  there  is 
no  reason  to  imagine  that  a  man  who  has  never  heard 
any  language  spoken,  will  himself  speak ;  and  it  is 
well  known  that  the  language  spoken  in  one  country 
is  unintelligible  to  the  natives  of  another  country. 

It  is  therefore  clearly  evident  that  there  is  no  in- 
stinctive articulated  language  ;  and  it  has  become  a 
question  of  some  importance  how  mankind  were  first 
induced  to  fabricate  articulate  sounds,  and  to  employ 
them  for  the  purpose  of  communicating  their  thoughts. 
Children  learn  to  speak  by  insensible  imitation ;  and 
when  advanced  some  years  in  life,  they  study  foreign 
languages  under  proper  instructors ;  but  the  first  men 
had  no  speakers  to  imitate,  and  no  formed  language  to 
study  ;  by  what  means,  then,  did  they  learn  to  speak  ? 
On  this  question,  only  two  opinions  can  be  formed. 
Either  language  must  have  been  originally  revealed 
from  heaven,  or  it  must  be  the  fruit  of  human  invention. 
The  greater  part  of  Jews  and  Christians,  and  even 
some  of  the  wisest  Pagans,  have  embraced  the  former 
opinion,  which  seems  to  be  supported  by  the  authority 


LANGUAGE.  101 

of  Moses,  for  he  represents  the  Supreme  Being  as 
teaching  our  first  parents  the  names  of  animals.  The 
latter  opinion  is  held  by  many  Greek  and  Roman 
writers,  who  consider  language  as  one  of  the  arts 
invented  by  man.  The  first  men,  say  they,  lived  for 
some  time  in  woods  and  caves,  after  the  manner  of 
beasts,  uttering  only  confused  and  indistinct  noises ; 
till  associating  for  mutual  assistance,  they  came  by 
degrees  to  use  articulate  sounds  mutually  agreed  upon, 
as  the  arbitrary  signs  or  marks  of  those  ideas  in  the 
mind  of  the  speaker,  which  he  wanted  to  communicate 
to  the  hearer.  This  opinion  has  been  adopted  by 
several  modern  writers  of  high  rank,  and  is  certainly 
in  itself  worthy  of  examination.  But  we  can  only 
mention  these  two  hypotheses :  the  narrow  limits  of 
this  article  will  not  allow  us  to  offer  even  an  outline 
of  the  arguments  by  which  each  of  them  is  supported. 
Language,  whatever  was  its  origin,  must  be  subject 
to  perpetual  changes,  from  its  very  nature,  as  well  as 
from  that  variety  of  incidents  which  affect  everything 
relating  to  human  society ;  and  these  changes  must 
always  correspond  with  the  change  of  circumstances 
in  the  people  by  whom  the  language  is  spoken.  When 
a  particular  set  of  ideas  become  prevalent  among 
any  society  of  men,  words  must  be  adopted  to  express 
them ;  and  from  these  the  language  must  assume  its 
character.  Hence  the  language  of  a  brave  and  martial 
people  is  bold  and  nervous,  although,  perhaps,  rude 
and  uncultivated  ;  while  the  languages  of  those  nations 
in  which  luxury  and  effeminacy  prevail,  are  flowing 
and  harmonious,  yet  devoid  of  force  and  energy  of 
expression. 


LANGUAGE. 

But  although  it  may  be  considered  as  a  general  rule 
that  the  language  of  any  people  is  a  very  exact  index 
of  the  state  of  their  minds,  yet  it  admits  of  some 
particular  exceptions.  For  as  man  is  naturally  an 
imitative  animal,  and  in  matters  of  this  kind,  never 
has  recourse  to  invention  but  through  necessity,  colo- 
nies planted  by  any  nation,  at  whatever  distance  from 
the  mother  country,  always  retain  the  same  gen- 
eral sounds  and  idioms  of  language,  with  those  from 
whom  they  are  separated.  In  process  of  time,  how- 
ever, the  colonists  and  people  of  the  mother  country, 
by  living  under  different  climates,  by  being  engaged 
in  different  occupations,  and  by  adopting,  of  course, 
different  modes  of  life,  may  lose  all  knowledge  of 
one  another,  assume  different  national  characters,  and 
form  each  a  language  to  themselves,  totally  differ- 
ent in  genius  and  style,  though  agreeing  with  one 
another  in  fundamental  sounds  and  general  idiom. 
Thus  various  languages  may  have  been  formed  out  of 
one  parent  tongue ;  and  thus  that  happy  concurrence 
of  circumstances  which  has  raised  some  languages  to 
a  high  degree  of  perfection  may  be  easily  accounted 
for,  while  many  ineffectual  efforts  have  been  made  to 
raise  other  languages  to  the  same  degree  of  excellence. 

The  knowledge  of  languages  constitutes  an  impor- 
tant part  .of  modern  learning,  and  their  beauty  and 
defects  furnish  constant  employment  to  taste.  These 
depend  upon  the  idioms  of  the  different  tongues.  As 
the  word  idiom  in  relation  to  language,  is  often  con- 
founded with  genius,  it  will  be  necessary  to  inform 
the  reader  that,  by  idiom,  we  mean  that  general  mode 
of  arranging  words  into  sentences  which  prevails  in 


LANGUAGE.  103 

any  particular  language  ;  and  by  the  genius  of  a  lan- 
guage we  mean  the  particular  set  of  ideas  which  the 
words  of  any  language,  either  from  their  formation  or 
multiplicity,  are  most  apt  naturally  to  excite  in  the 
mind.  Thus  although  the  English,  French,  Italian 
and  Spanish  languages  nearly  agree  in  the  same 
general  idiom,  yet  the  particular  genius  of  each  is 
remarkably  different.  The  English  is  naturally  bold, 
nervous,  and  strongly  articulated ;  the  French  is 
weaker  and  more  flowing;  the  Italian  more  soothing 
and  harmonious ;  and  the  Spanish  more  grave,  sono- 
rous and  stately. 

When  we  examine  the  several  languages  which 
have  been  most  esteemed  in  Europe,  we  find  that 
there  are  only  two  idioms  among  them  which  are 
essentially  distinguished  from  each  other.  All  these 
sometimes  follow  the  one,  and  sometimes,  the  other, 
in  whole  or  in  part.  The  languages  which  may 
be  said  to  adhere  to  the  first  idiom,  are  those 
which  in  their  construction  follow  the  order  of  nature, 
that  is,  express  their  ideas  in  the  natural  order  in 
which  they  occur  to  the  mind;  the  subject  which 
occasions  the  action  appearing  first,  then  the  action 
accompanied  with  its  several  modifications ;  and  last 
of  all,  the  object  to  which  it  refers.  These  may  pro- 
perly be  called  analogous  languages  ;  and  of  this  kind 
are  the  English,  French,  and  most  of  the  modern 
European  tongues. 

The  languages  which  may  be  referred  to  the  .other 
idiom,  are  those  which  follow  no  other  order  in  their 
construction  than  what  the  taste  or  fancy  of  the  com- 
poser may  suggest;  sometimes  making  the  object, 


LANGUAGE. 

sometimes  the  action,  and  sometimes  the  modification 
of  the  action,  to  precede  or  follow  the  other  parts. 
The  confusion  which  this  might  cause,  is  avoided  by 
the  particular  manner  of  inflecting  the  words,  by 
which  they  are  made  to  refer  to  the  others  with  which 
they  ought  to  be  connected  in  whatever  part  of  the 
sentence  they  occur,  the  mind  being  left  at  liberty  to 
connect  the  several  parts  with  one  another  after  the 
whole  sentence  is  concluded.  And  as  the  words  may 
here  be  transposed  at  pleasure,  those  languages  may 
be  called  transpositive  languages.  To  this  class  we 
must,  in  an  especial  manner,  refer  the  Latin  and 
Greek. 

Of  all  the  nations  whose  memory  history  has  trans- 
mitted to  us,  none  have  been  so  eminently  distinguish- 
ed for  their  literary  accomplishments  and  acquaintance 
with  the  polite  arts  as  the  Greeks  ;  nor  are  we  as  yet 
acquainted  with  a  language  possessing  so  many  advan- 
tages and  so  few  defects  as  theirs,  which  has  been  the 
most  universally  admired,  both  in  ancient  and  modern 
times.  The  original  sounds  of  the  Greek  language 
are  the  most  harmonious  and  the  most  agreeable  to  the 
ear,  of  any  that  have  hitherto  been  invented.  They 
are  indeed  agreeable  to  every  person  who  hears  them, 
even  where  the  meaning  is  not  understood ;  whereas 
almost  all  other  languages,  till  they  are  understood, 
have  a  jarring  and  discordant  sound  to  the  ear.  The 
Greek  language  is  of  the  transpositive  kind ;  but  a  people 
so  lively,  so  acute,  and  so  loquacious,  could  ill  bear  the 
ceremonious  restraint  to  which  that  form  of  language 
naturally  subjected  them  ;  and  they  have  therefore,  by 
various  methods,  freed  it,  in  a  great  measure,  from 


LANGUAGE.  105 

the  stiffness  which  it  produced.  In  inflecting  their 
verbs  they  sometimes  prefix  a  syllable,  and  sometimes 
subjoin  one,  which,  besides  the  variety  that  it  gives  to 
the  sounds  of  the  language,  adds  greatly  to  the  dis- 
tinctness, and  admits  of  a  more  natural  arrangement 
of  the  words,  than  in  the  Latin. 

The  Romans,  a  people  of  fierce  and  warlike  dispo- 
sition, for  many  ages  during  the  infancy  of  their 
republic  more  intent  on  pursuing  conquests  and  mili- 
tary glory  than  in  making  improvements  in  literature 
and  the  fine  arts,  bestowed  little  attention  on  their 
language.  Nor  was  this  done  till  Greece  had  been 
subjected  to  the  Roman  sway,  and  the  arts  and  refine- 
ments of  the  conquered  people  began  to  exert  their 
influence  over  the  conquerors.  While  the  Latin  lan- 
guage acquired  more  copiousness,  harmony  and  pre- 
cision, it  remained  stiflf  and  inflexible  for  conversation ; 
nor  could  the  minute  distinction  of  nice  grammatical 
rules  be  ever  brought  down  to  the  apprehension  of  the 
vulgar  ;  whence  the  language  spoken  among  the  lower 
class  of  people  remained  rude  and  unpolished  even 
down  to  the  overthrow  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

The  Latin  language  is  more  strictly  transpositive 
than  any  other  known  tongue.  Its  sounds  are  less 
harmonious  to  the  ear  than  those  of  the  Greek, 
but  they  are  stately  and  solemn.  To  one  acquainted 
with  the  language  indeed,  the  nervous  boldness  of  the 
thoughts,  the  harmonious  rounding  of  the  periods,  the 
full,  solemn  swelling  of  the  sounds,  so  distinguishable 
in  the  most  eminent  writers  in  that  language,  which 
have  been  preserved  to  us,  all  conspire  to  make  it 
imposing  and  agreeable.  Yet  the  Latin  is  less  copious 


106  LANGUAGE. 

and  more  limited  in  its  style  of  composition  than  many 
modern  languages,  far  less  capable  of  precision  and 
accuracy  than  almost  any  of  them,  and  infinitely  be- 
hind them  all  in  point  of  facility  for  conversation. 

The  modern  Italian  has  been  usually  called  the 
child  of  the  Latin;  and  the  common  notion  is  that  it 
is  the  ancient  Latin  a  little  debased  by  a  mixture  of 
the  barbarous  languages  of  the  people  who  conquered 
Italy ;  but  the  truth  is,  the  case  is  directly  the  reverse ; 
for  this  language  in  its  general  idiom  and  fundamental 
principles,  is  evidently  of  the  analogous  kind,  first 
introduced  by  those  fierce  invaders,  although  it  has 
borrowed  many  of  its  words,  and  some  of  its  modes  of 
phraseology  from  the  Latin. 

Of  all  the  languages  which  sprung  up  from  the 
mixture  of  the  Latins  with  the  northern  people  on  the 
destruction  of  the  Roman  Empire,  no  other  approaches 
so  near  to  the  genius  of  the  Latin  as  does  the  Spanish. 
As  the  Spaniards  have  always  been  remarkable  for 
their  military  pomp  and  loftiness  of  mind,  their  lan- 
guage is  naturally  adapted  to  express  ideas  of  that  sort. 
Sonorous  and  solemn,  it  admits  nearly  of  as  much  dig- 
nity as  the  Latin.  For  conversation,  it  is  the  most 
elegant  and  courteous  language  in  Europe. 

Of  the  ancient  languages,  of  which  any  knowledge 
remains,  the  Hebrew  claims  the  first  place  on  account 
of  its  undoubted  antiquity,  its  peculiar  structure,  and 
the  strong  claims  which  it  seems  to  have  to  be  con- 
sidered as  either  the  same  with,  or  the  immediate 
descendant  of  the  primitive  tongue.  It  is  a  language 
much  admired  by  thbse  who  understand  it  well.  The 
tenses  of  the  verbs  are  only  three,  and  properly  speak- 


LANGUAGE.  107 

ing,  the  nouns  have  but  one  conjugation.  The  roots 
of  the  verbs  are  for  the  most  part  monosyllabic,  con- 
sisting generally  of  three  letters. 

While  the  primitive  tongue  appears  to  have  been 
carried  from  southern  Asia  in  various  forms  to  the 
north  and  west,  its  progress  southward  and  eastward 
gave  rise  to  a  different  though  not  less  remarkable  set 
of  languages.  Of  these,  the  most  eminent  is  the  San- 
scrit, a  polished  and  elegant  tongue,  and  fixed  in  the 
writings  of  its  classic  authors  at  a  period,  it  is  thought, 
prior  to  the  commencement  of  the  Christian  era. 
Both  in  the  roots  of  verbs  and  the  forms  of  grammar, 
the  Sanscrit  is  found  to  bear  so  close  an  affinity  to 
the  Greek  and  Latin,  that  philologists  do  not  hesitate 
to  consider  it  a  branch  of  that  primeval  tongue  which 
was  gradually  transplanted  into  various  climates, 
becoming  Sanscrit  in  India,  Peklvi  in  Persia,  and 
Greek  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  San- 
scrit, though  it  has  now  in  a  great  measure  ceased  to 
be  a  living  tongue,  is  considered  in  India  as  the  lan- 
guage of  science  ;  and  it  is  pretty  certain  that  it  was 
the  immediate  parent  of  the  numerous  languages  still 
spoken  throughout  India  as  far  as  China. 

To  the  eastward  of  India  we  find  a  language  totally 
dissimilar  in  many  respects  to  those  which  have 
already  come  under  notice.  The  Chinese  is  made  up 
of  monosyllables,  and  has  no  inflections  for  distinguish- 
ing nouns,  verbs  or  attributes.  Its  distinct  words  are 
very  few,  but  these  are  varied  in  pronunciation,  by 
accent,  emphasis,  and  other  marks,  to  fit  each  of  them 
for  expressing  many  ideas — a  mode  of  speech  so  em- 
barrassing that  recourse  must  often  be  had  to  the 


103 


LANGUAGE. 


written  character  for  indicating  the  particular  mean- 
ing. These  written  characters  amount  to  80,000, 
which  are  combined  from  214  roots  or  simple  char- 
acters. All  these  can  be  traced  to  simple  paint- 
ings or  symbols,  and  hence  the  whole  written  Chi- 
nese language  may  be  justly  compared  to  the  more 
simple  writing  of  the  Mexicans  and  Egyptians. 

The  native  American  languages  present  a  striking 
phenomenon.  Throughout  the  whole  of  this  vast  con- 
tinent, the  most  astonishing  uniformity  prevails  in  the 
general  structure  of  the  multitude  of  languages  spoken 
by  the  different  aboriginal  tribes,  although  the  greatest 
dissimilarity  exists  in  the  sounds  of  the  words.  The 
synthetic  character  pervades  them  all.  The  American 
Indian  does  not  separate  the  component  parts  of  the 
proposition  which  he  utters ;  he  never  analyzes  his 
expressions ;  his  thoughts  rush  forth  in  a  troop  ;  and 
every  complex  idea  is  expressed  in  a  group.  It  is  on 
the  formation  of  the  verb  that  the  inventors  of  the 
American  languages  have  principally  exercised  their 
genius.  In  all  the  idioms  the  conjugation  of  this  part 
of  speech  tends  to  mark,  by  particular  inflections,  the 
affinity  between  the  subject  and  the  action,  or  between 
the  subject  and  the  things  by  which  it  is  surrounded. 
In  all  of  them  the  possessive  pronouns  are  formed  of 
sounds  annexed  to  the  substantive,  either  at  the  com- 
mencement or  the  termination,  and  differ  from  the 
personal  pronouns.  The  noun,  adjective  and  pronoun 
are  blended  into  one  word.  The  power  of  combination 
possessed  by  every  original  tongue,  exists  in  the  Amer- 
ican languages  to  an  unlimited  degree.  The  savage 
cannot  say  separately,  father,  son,  tree  or  house;  the 


LANGUAGE.  109 

noun  must  be  combined  with  some  pronoun  or  adjec- 
tive indicating  the  person  to  whom  it  relates,  or  the 
quality  or  circumstance  that  distinguishes  it.  The 
wonderful  uniformity  shown  in  forming  the  conjuga- 
tions and  combining  the  words  from  one  end  of  Amer- 
ica to  the  other,  greatly  favors  the  supposition  of  a 
primitive  people,  the  common  parent  of  the  indigenous 
Americans.  Their  languages  present  so  ingenious 
and  artificial  a  system  of  composition  that  one  feels 
irresistibly  disposed  to  ascribe  the  invention  of  them  to 
some  ancient  civilized  nation; — not,  indeed,  nations 
refined  to  the  modern  scale,  but  such  as  the  Greeks 
were  in  the  time  of  Homer,  having  their  moral  ideas 
developed,  their  sentiments  elevated,  and  their  imagi- 
nation vivid  and  cultivated ; — in  short,  who  had  suf- 
ficient leisure  to  yield  themselves  up  to  meditation, 
and  form  abstract  ideas. 

CONCLUDING  OBSERVATIONS. — It  appears  that,  at  the 
present  day,  some  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  of  lan- 
guages, are  spoken  over  the  globe ;  the  whole,  however, 
divided  into  certain  leading  classes,  and  by  far  the 
greater  proportion  being  dialects  or  altered  varieties  of 
original  roots.  The  predominance  of  any  individual 
language  by  no  means  corresponds  with  either  its 
valuable  qualities  or  its  antiquity.  The  Celtic,  for  ex- 
ample, the  oldest  language  of  most  European  coun- 
tries, is  now  confined  to  a  few  unimportant  localities ; 
the  Hebrew,  following  the  fate  of  the  people  to  whom 
it  belonged,  is  not  spoken  as  a  vernacular  by  any  na- 
tion ;  the  ancient  Greek  has  been  modernized  or 
altered  as  a  spoken  tongue ;  and  the  dignified  and  so- 
norous Latin,  once  spoken  by  the  learned  orators  of 


no 


LANGUAGE. 


ancient  Kome,  is  also  numbered  with  the  dead  lan- 
guages. 

Out  of  the  wreck  of  ancient  tongues,  certain  new 
languages  have  arisen  and  taken  a  lead  in  the  civil- 
ized world.  Of  these  the  French  was  the  first  which 
attained  general  estimation.  It  was  spoken  at  courts, 
became  the  language  of  diplomacy,  and  still  is  the 
medium  of  converse  among  all  refined  classes  of  per- 
sons throughout  continental  Europe.  Except,  how- 
ever, in  two  or  three  of  the  Swiss  cantons,  and  part 
of  Belgium,  it  is  nowhere  the  vernacular  beyond  the 
confines  of  France.  In  short,  with  all  its  dissemina- 
tion, it  is  limited  in  its  sphere,  and  is  not  making  new 
conquests  among  either  barbarous  or  civilized  races. 
The  Italian,  though  rich  and  harmonious,  is  only  a 
local  tongue.  The  Spanish,  by  means  of  conquests  in 
Central  and  South  America,  has  been  widely  extend- 
ed ;  but  its  progress  has  been  impeded,  though  it  is 
still  spoken  over  a  large  part  of  America. 

The  next  great  language  of  modern  Europe  is  the 
German,  which  is  spoken  over  a  vast  extent  of  country, 
and  by  a  large  population,  and  is  distinguished  for  the 
great  riches  of  its  literature.  Yet,  this  eloquent  and 
copious  tongue  is  also  not  making  aggressions  on  new 
domains,  not  becoming  universal — a  circumstance  aris- 
ing from  that  fixity  of  habits  in  its  people,  which  pre- 
vents them  from  pushing  into  new  scenes  of  enterprise. 
The  Dutch.  Swedish,  Norwegian,  and  other  branches 
of  the  Teutonic,  are  all  substantially  confined  each  to 
its  own  little  spot,  from  which  it  does  not  appear  likely 
that  they  will  ever  be  extended. 

The  English  language,  which,  as  is  well  known,  is 


LANGUAGE.  Ill 

little  else  than  Saxon,  tinged  with.  Latin,  seems  to  have 
been  reserved  for  a  singular  destiny,  in  no  respect  fore- 
seen at  the  period  of  its  formation.  First  spreading 
over  the  British  islands,  and  pushing  out  several  varie- 
ties of  Celtic,  it  has  heen  conducted  by  national  enter- 
prise to  the  American  continent  and  islands,  where  it  is 
now  the  leading  form  of  speech  of  civilized  men,  every- 
where encroaching  upon  the  native  and  transplanted 
tongues.  By  similar  processes  of  colonization,  it  has 
been  planted  in  India  and  its  islands,  in  Australia,  Van 
Diemen's  Land,  New  Zealand,  the  southern  extremity 
and  various  parts  of  the  western  coast  of  Africa,  be- 
sides other  possessions  of  Britain  in  different  parts  of 
the  world.  Perhaps  the  most  extraordinary  incident 
in  its  eventful  progress  has  been  its  plantation  in  Li- 
beria, on  the  coast  of  Africa,  by  a  society  of  American 
colonists,  and  where  it  now  forms  the  vernacular  of  a 
Negro  race,  the  intelligent  descendants  of  liberated 
slaves.  Thus,  while  most  tongues  have  been  confined, 
by  force  of  circumstances,  to  the  place  of  their  birth, 
the  English  has  gone  forward  in  the  van  of  civilization 
to  almost  all  accessible  parts  of  the  habitable  earth ; 
and,  preserved  from  deflection  by  a  common  standard 
literature,  will,  in  all  probability,  become  a  universal 
language. 

SPECIMENS    OF    LANGUAGES. 

With  the  view  of  affording  the  reader  an  idea  of  the 
appearance  of  some  of  the  principal  languages,  dead 
and  living,  we  append  the  passages  from  the  New 
Testament  composing  the  Lord's  Prayer,  in  Greek, 


LANGUAGE. 

Latin,  Italian,  Spanish,  French,  German,  Dutch  and 
English.  For  the  sake  of  clearness,  the  Greek  is 
printed  in  the  Roman  alphabet,  the  aspirate  at  the  be- 
ginning of  certain  words  being  represented  by  the  let- 
ter h.  The  reader  will  observe  the  difference  between 
the  Greek  and  Latin  words,  and  how  evidently  the 
Latin  is  the  parent  of  the  Italian,  Spanish  and  French ; 
the  latter,  however,  possessing  the  least  resemblance  in 
orthography  and  arrangement  to  its  original.  He  will 
also  have  an  opportunity  of  comparing  the  German 
with  its  kindred  tongue  the  Dutch,  and  both  with  their 
relation  the  Anglo-Saxon  or  English. 

Greek. 

PATER  HEMON  ho  en  tois  ouranois,  hagiastheto  to 
onoma  sou.  Eltheto  he  Basileia  sou.  Genetheto  to 
thelema  sou,  hos  en  ourano,  kai  epi  tes  ges.  Ton 
arton  hernon  ton  epiousion  dos  hemin  semeron.  Kai 
aphes  hemin  ta  opheilemata  hemon,  hos  kai  hemeis 
aphiemen  tois  opheiletais  hemon.  Kai  me  eiseneng- 
kes  hemas  eis  peirasmon,  alia  rusai  hemas  apo  tou 
ponerou ;  hoti  sou  estin  he  Basileia,  kai  he  dunamis. 
kai  he  doxa,  eis  tous  aionas.  Amen. 

Latin. 

PATER  NOSTER,  qui  es  in  ccelis,  sanctificetur  nomen 
tuum.  Adveniat  regnum  tuurn.  Fiat  voluntas  tua, 
sicut  in  cffilo,  et  in  terra.  Panem  nostrum  quotidianum 
da  nobis  hodie.  Et  remitte  nobis  debita  nostra,  sicut 
et  nos  remittimus  debitoribus  nostris.  Et  ne  nos  in- 
ducas  in  tentationem,  sed  libera  nos  a  malo.  Tibi  enim 
est  regnum,  et  potentia,  et  gloria,  in  sempiternum. 
Amen. 


LANGUAGE.  113 

Italian. 

PADRE  NOSTRO,  che  sei  ne'  cieli,  sia  santificato  il  tuo 
nome.  II  tuo  regno  venga.  La  tua  volonta  sia  fatta 
in  terra  come  in  cielo.  Dacci  oggi  il  nostro  pane  co- 
tidiano.  E  rimettici  i  nostri  debiti,  come  noi  ancora 
gli  rimettiamo  a'  nostri  debitori.  E  non  indurci  in 
tentazione,  ma  liberaci  dal  maligno.  Percioche  tuo  e 
il  regno,  e  la  potenza,  e  la  gloria,  in  sempiterno.  Amen. 

Spanish. 

PADRE  NUESTRO,  que  estas  en  los  cielos,  sea  sancti- 
ficado  tu  nombre.  Vega  tu  reyno ;  sea  hecha  tua  vo- 
lutad,  como  en  el  cielo,  ansi  tambien  en  la  tierra. 
Danos  oy  nuestro  pan  quotidiano.  Y  sueltanos  neus- 
tras  deudas,  como  tambien  nosotros  soltamos  a  nues- 
tros  deudores.  Y  no  nos  metas  en  tentacion,  mas 
libranos  de  mal.  Porque  tuyo  es  el  reyno,  y  la  pote- 
cia,  y  la  gloria,  por  todos  los  siglos.  Amen. 

French. 

NOTRE  PERE  qui  es  aux  cieux,  ton  nom  soit  sanctifie. 
Ton  regne  vienne ;  ta  volonte  soit  faite  sur  la  terre, 
comme  au  ciel.  Donne-nous  aujourd'hui  notre  pain 
juotidien.  Pardonne-nous  nos  pech6s,  comme  aussi 
nous  pardonnons  a  ceux  qui  nous  ont  ofienses.  Et  ne 
nous  abandonne  point  a  la  tentation,  mais  delivre 
nous  du  malin.  Car  a  toi  appartient  le  regne,  la 
puissance,  et  la  gloire,  a  jamais.  Amen. 

German. 

UNSER  VATER  in  dem  Himmel,  dein  Name  werde 
geheiliget.      Dein  Reich  komme.      Dein  Wille  ge- 
schehe  auf  Erden,  wie  im  Himmel.     Unser  taglicb.es 
H 


114  LANGUAGE. 

Brod  gieb  uns  heute.  Und  vergieb  uns  unsere  Schul- 
den,  wie  wir  unsern  Schuldigern  vergaben.  Und 
fiihre  uns  nicht  in  Versuchung,  sondern  erlose  uns 
von  dem  Uebel.  Denn  dein  ist  das  Reich,  und  die 
Kraft,  und  die  Herrlichkeit,  in  Ewigkeit.  Amen. 

Dutch. 

ONZE  VADER,  die  in  de  Hemelen  zijt,  uw  naam 
worde  geheiligd.  Uw  Koningrijk  kome.  Uw  wil 
geschiede,  Gelijk  in  den  hemel,  Zoo  ook  op  de  aarde. 
Geef  ons  heden  ons  dagelijksch  brood.  En  vergeef 
ons  onze  schulden,  Gelijk  ook  \vij  verge ven  onzen 
schuldenaren.  En  leid  ons  niet  in  verzoeking,  Maar 
verlos  ons  van  den  booze.  Want  Uw  is  het  koningrijk, 
En  de  kracht,  en  de  heerlijkheid,  In  de  eeuwigheid. 
Amen. 

English. 

OUR  FATHER  which  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be  thy 
name.  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done  in 
earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread.  And  forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as  we  forgive 
them  that  trespass  against  us.  And  lead  us  not  into 
temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil.  For  thine  is  the 
kingdom,  the  power,  and  the  glory,  for  ever  and  ever. 
Amen. 


RHETORIC. 

Li  its  primary  signification,  the  word  Rhetoric  relat- 
ed to  public  speaking  alone,  as  its  etymology  implies ; 
but  as  most  of  the  rules  for  speaking  are,  of  course, 
equally  applicable  to  writing,  an  extension  of  the  term 
naturally  took  place.  The  invention  of  printing,  by 
enlarging  the  sphere  of  operation  of  the  writer,  has, 
of  course,  contributed  to  the  extension  of  those  terms 
which,  in  their  primary  signification,  referred  only  to 
speaking.  Many  objects  are  now  accomplished  through 
the  medium  of  the  press,  which  formerly  came  under 
the  exclusive  province  of  the  orator ;  and  the  qualifi- 
cations reqffisite  for  success  are  so  much  the  same  in 
both  cases,  that  we  apply  the  term  "  eloquent "  as 
readily  to  a  writer  as  to  a  speaker,  though,  etymologi- 
cally  considered,  it  could  belong  only  to  the  latter. 

OF  RHETORICAL  ARGUMENTS. — The  first  step  in 
Rhetoric  is  to  lay  down,  in  the  author's  mind,  the 
proposition  or  propositions  to  be  maintained,  clearly 
and  in  a  suitable  form.  He  who  makes  a  point  of  ob- 
serving this  rule,  and  who  thus  keeps  steadily  in  view 
the  object  he  is  aiming  at,  will  be  kept  clear,  in  a  great 
degree,  from  the  common  faults  of  young  writers — that 
of  entering  on  too  wide  afield  of  discussion,  and  intro- 
ducing many  propositions  not  sufficiently  connected ; 
an  error  which  destroys  the  unity  of  the  composition. 


116  RHETORIC. 

Those  are  apt  to  fall  into  this  mistake,  who  place  before 
themselves  a  Term  instead  of  a  Proposition;  and 
imagine  that  because  they  are  treating  of  one  thing, 
they  are  discussing  one  question.  In  an  Ethical  work, 
for  instance,  one  may  be  treating  of  virtue,  while  dis- 
cussing any  or  all  of  these  questions — "  Wherein  virtue 
consists,"  "  Whence  our  notions  of  it  arise,"  "Whence 
it  derives  its  obligation,"  &c.  But  if  these  questions 
were  confusedly  blended  together,  or  if  all  of  them 
were  treated  of  within  a  short  compass,  the  most  just 
remarks  and  forcible  arguments  would  lose  their  inter- 
est and  their  utility,  in  so  perplexed  a  composition. 
Nearly  akin  to  this  fault  is  that  of  entering  on  too  wide 
a  field  for  the  length  of  the  work,  by  which  means  the 
writer  is  confined  to  barren  and  uninteresting  gener- 
alities. 

It  will  be  useful  for  one  who  is  about  to  lay  down 
his  propositions,  to  ask  himself  these  three  questions. 
1.  What  is  the  fact  ?  2.  Why,  and  from  %hat  cause 
is  it  so  ?  or  in  other  words,  How  is  it  accounted  for  ? 
and  3.  What  consequence  results  from  it  ?  By  the 
word  Proposition  or  Assertion,  is  to  be  understood 
some  conclusion  to  be  established  for  itself,  not  with  a 
view  to  an  ulterior  conclusion  ;  those  propositions 
which  are  intended  to  serve  as  premises,  being  called, 
in  allowable  conformity  with  popular  usage,  Argu- 
ments. 

Arguments  are  divided,  1st,  into  Regular  and  Ir- 
regular. 2dly,  into  Moral  or  Probable,  and  Demon- 
strative or  Necessary.  3dly,  into  Direct  and  Indirect. 
4thly,  into  Arguments  from  Example,  from  Testi- 
mony, from  Cause  to  Effect,  from  Analogy,  &c.  The 


RHETORIC.  117 

first  is  a  division  merely  of  the  forms  of  stating  the 
arguments.  The  second  is  a  division  according  to 
their  subject  matter,  whether  Necessary  or  Probable, 
certain  or  uncertain.  The  third  is  a  division  accord- 
ing to  the  purpose  for  which  the  arguments  are  em- 
ployed ;  according  to  the  intention  of  the  reasoner, 
whether  that  be  to  establish  directly  the  conclusion 
drawn  ;  or  indirectly,  by  means  of  an  absurd  conclu- 
sion, to  disprove  one  of  the  premises.  The  fourth, 
which  is  alone  a  proper  division  of  arguments  as  such, 
is  a  division  according  to  the  relation  of  the  subject 
matter  of  the  premises  to  that  of  the  conclusion. 

So  far  as  any  cause,  popularly  speaking,  has  a  ten- 
dency to  produce  a  certain  effect,  its  existence  is 
an  argument  for  that  of  the  Effect.  If  the  cause  be 
fully  sufficient,  and  no  impediments  intervene,  the 
Effect  in  question  follows  certainly ;  and  the  nearer  we 
approach  to  this,  the  stronger  is  the  Argument.  This  is 
the  kind  of  argument  which  produces,  when  short 
of  absolute  certainty,  that  species  of  the  Probable, 
usually  called  the  Plausible.  This  is  the  only  kind 
of  Probability  which  poets,  or  other  writers  of  fiction, 
aim  at ;  and  in  such  works  it  is  often  designated  by  the 
term  "  natural."  Writers  of  this  class,  as  they  aim 
not  at  producing  positive  belief,  are  allowed  to  take 
their  "  causes"  for  granted  ;  that  is,  to  assume  any  hy- 
pothesis they  please,  provided  they  make  the  effects 
follow  naturally,  namely,  representing  the  personages 
of  the  fiction  as  acting,  and  the  events  as  resulting  in 
the  same  manner  as  might  have  been  expected  sup- 
posing the  assumed  circumstances  to  have  been  real. 
And  hence  Aristotle,  the  father  of  Criticism,  estab- 


118  RHETORIC. 

lishes  his  paradoxical  maxim,  that  impossibilities  which 
appear  probable  are  to  be  preferred  to  possibilities 
which  appear  improbable.  For,  as  he  justly  observes, 
the  impossibility  of  the  hypothesis, — for  example,  in 
Homer,  the  familiar  intercourse  of  the  Gods  with  mor- 
tals— is  no  bar  to  the  kind  of  Probability  required,  if 
those  mortals  are  represented  as  acting  in  the  manner 
which  men  naturally  would  have  done  under  those 
circumstances. 

The  Probability  then,  which  the  writer  of  fiction 
aims  at,  has,  for  the  reason  just  mentioned,  no  tenden- 
cy to  produce  a  particular,  but  only  a  general  belief ; 
that  is,  not  that  these  particular  events  actually  took 
place,  but  that  such  are  likely  generally  to  take  place 
under  such  circumstances.  In  argumentative  compo- 
sitions however,  as  the  object,  of  course,  is  to  produce 
conviction  as  to  the  particular  point  in  question,  the 
causes  from  which  our  Arguments  are  drawn,  must  be 
such  as  are  either  admitted,  or  may  be  proved  to  be 
actually  existing,  or  likely  to  exist. 

In  applying  arguments,  it  is  to  be  considered  wheth- 
er the  principal  object  of  the  discourse  be  to  give  sa- 
tisfaction to  a  candid  mind  and  convey  instruction  to 
those  who  are  ready  to  receive  it,  or  to  compel  the 
assent  and  silence  the  objections,  of  an  opponent ;  and 
the  arguments  must  be  adapted  accordingly.  But  this 
distinction  is  little  regarded  by  ordinary  writers  and 
speakers.  It  is  usual  to  call  an  argument  simply 
strong  or  weak,  without  reference  to  the  purpose  for 
which  it  is  designed ;  whereas  the  arguments  which 
afford  the  most  satisfaction  to  a  candid  mind  are  often 
such  as  would  have  less  weight  in  controversy  than 


KHETORIC.  119 

many  others,  which  again  would  be  less  suitable  for 
the  former  purpose.  For  example,  the  internal  evi- 
dence of  Christianity  in  general,  proves  the  most  satis- 
factory to  a  believer's  mind,  but  is  not  that  which 
produces  the  greatest  effect  in  the  refutation  of  infidels. 
The  arguments  from  Analogy,  on  the  other  hand, 
which  are  the  most  unanswerable,  are  not  so  pleasing 
and  consolatory. 

Matters  of  Opinion,  as  they  are  called,  that  is, 
where  we  are  said  not  properly  to  know,  but  to  judge, 
are  established  chiefly  by  Antecedent  probability,  past 
facts,  &c.  Example,  however,  is  not  excluded  from 
the  proof  of  matters  of  opinion,  since  a  man's  judg- 
ment in  one  case  may  be  aided  or  corrected  by  an  ap- 
peal to  his  judgment  in  another  similar  case.  It  hap- 
pens frequently,  however,  that  when,  in  the  discussion 
of  matters  of  opinion,  an  Example  is  introduced,  it  is 
designed  not  for  Argument,  but  strictly  speaking,  for 
Illustration ;  not  to  prove  the  proposition  in  question, 
but  to  make  it  more  clearly  understood.  It  is  impor- 
tant to  distinguish  between  these  two  uses  of  Example, 
that  on  the  one  hand  we  may  not  be  led  to  mistake 
for  an  Argument,  a  mere  Illustration,  and  that  on  the 
other  hand  we  may  not  too  hastily  charge  with  soph- 
istry the  writer  or  speaker  who  uses  such  a  one  sim- 
ply with  a  view  to  illustration. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  a  Proposition  may  be 
refuted :  first,  by  proving  that  which  is  contradictory  to 
it ;  second,  by  overthrowing  the  arguments  by  which  it 
has  been  supported.  The  former  of  these  is  less  strict- 
ly and  properly  called  Refutation,  being  only  acci- 
dentally such,  since  it  might  have  been  employed 


120  RHETORIC. 

equally  well  had  the  opposite  Argument  never  exist- 
ed ;  and  in  fact,  it  will  often  happen  that  a  Proposition 
maintained  by  one  author,  may  be  in  this  way  refuted 
by  another,  who  had  never  heard  of  his  arguments. 

A  Proem,  Exordium,  or  Introduction  is,  as  Aristotle 
has  justly  remarked,  not  to  be  accounted  one  of  the 
essential  parts  of  a  composition,  since  it  is  not  in  every 
case  necessary.  In  most,  however,  except  such  as  are 
extremely  short,  it  is  found  advisable  to  premise  some- 
thing before  we  enter  on  the  main  Argument,  to  avoid 
an  appearance  of  abruptness,  and  to  facilitate  in 
some  degree  the  object  proposed.  In  larger  works 
this  assumes  the  appellation  of  Preface  or  Advertise- 
ment. Very  often  it  contains  appeals  to  various  pas- 
sions and  feelings  in  the  hearers,  especially  a  feeling 
of  approbation  towards  the  speaker,  or  of  prejudice 
against  an  opponent  who  has  preceded  him ;  but  this 
is  by  no  means  confined  to  introductions. 

OF  PERSUASION. — Persiiasion  is  the  art  of  influ- 
encing the  Will ;  and  Rhetoric  is  often  regarded  in  a 
more  limited  sense  as  conversant  with  this  topic 
alone.  Persuasion  depends,  1st,  on  Argument,  to 
prove  the  expediency  of  the  means  proposed.  2d,  on 
what  is  usually  called  Exhortation ;  or  the  incitement 
of  men  to  adopt  those  means,  by  representing  the  end 
as  sufficiently  desirable.  Aristotle,  and  many  other 
writers,  have  spoken  of  appeals  to  the  passions  as  an 
unfair  mode  of  influencing  the  hearers ;  in  answer  to 
which  Dr.  Campbell  has  remarked  that  there  can  be 
no  Persuasion  without  an  address  to  the  passions  ;  and 
it  is  evident  that  he  is  right,  if  under  the  term  Passions 
he  included  every  active  principle  of  our  nature.  In 


RHETORIC.  121 

order  to  persuade,  there  are  two  things  which  must  be 
carefully  studied  by  the  orator.  The  first  is  to  excite 
some  desire  or  passion  in  the  hearers ;  the  second  is, 
to  satisfy  their  judgment  that  there  is  a  connexion  be- 
tween the  action  to  which  he  would  persuade  them, 
and  the  gratification  of  the  desire  or  passion  which  he 
excites.  This  is  the  analysis  of  Persuasion.  The 
former  is  effected  by  communicating  lively  and  glow- 
ing ideas  of  the  subject ;  the  latter,  unless  so  evident 
of  itself  as  to  supersede  the  necessity,  by  presenting 
the  best  and  most  forcible  arguments  which  the  nature 
of  the  subject  admits.  In  the  one  lies  the  pathetic ;  in 
the  other  the  argumentation.  These  incorporated  to- 
gether, constitute  that  vehemence  of  contention  to 
which  the  greatest  exploits  of  Eloquence  ought  doubt- 
less to  be  ascribed. 

The  most  important  point  to  be  observed  in  every 
address  to  any  Passion,  Sentiment,  Feeling,  &c.,  is 
that  it  should  not  be  introduced  as  such,  and  plainly 
avowed,  otherwise  the  effect  will  be  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, if  not  entirely,  lost.  This  circumstance  forms  a 
remarkable  distinction  between  Persuasion  and  Argu- 
mentation. When  engaged  in  Reasoning,  properly 
so  called,  our  purpose  not  only  need  not  be  concealed, 
but  may,  without  prejudice  to  the  effect,  be  distinctly 
declared.  On  the  other  hand,  even  when  the  feelings 
we  wish  to  excite,  are  such  as  ought  to  operate,  so  that 
there  is  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  the  endeavors 
thus  to  influence  the  hearer,  still  our  purpose  and 
drift  should  be,  if  not  absolutely  concealed,  yet  not 
openly  declared  and  made  prominent.  When  this  is 
done,  it  is  as  if  the  speaker  should  say  to  his  auditors, 


RHETORIC. 

"  Now  I  will  make  you  feel  as  you  ought.  I  will  in- 
spire you  with  such  noble  and  generous  sentiments  as 
you  ought  to  entertain."  The  mind  of  the  hearer  is 
sure  to  revolt  from  the  humiliation  of  being  thus 
moulded  and  fashioned  in  respect  to  his  feelings,  at  the 
will  of  another,  and  is  apt  perversely  to  resist  the  in- 
fluence of  such  a  discipline. 

The  more  gross  and  illiterate  the  hearers  are,  the 
more  avowedly  may  the  speaker  address  their  feel- 
ings, and  the  less  occasion  is  there  for  argument. 
The  more  intelligent  they  are,  the  more  adroitly 
must  he  operate  on  their  passions,  and  the  more  atten- 
tive must  he  be  in  regard  to  the  justness,  or  at  least 
the  speciousness  of  his  reasoning.  Popularity  alone, 
is  no  true  test  of  the  real  eloquence  of  a  speaker. 
To  lead  a  sect,  to  infuse  party  spirit,  to  make  men  arro- 
gant, uncharitable  and  malevolent,  is  the  easiest  task 
imaginable,  and  which  almost  any  mountebank  may 
perform.  But  to  produce  the  contrary  effect,  to  subdue 
the  spirit  of  faction,  to  inspire  equity,  moderation  and 
charity  into  men's  sentiments  and  conduct,  with  re- 
gard to  others,  is  the  genuine  test  of  eloquence.  Of 
all  the  prepossessions  in  the  minds  of  the  hearers 
which  tend  to  impede  or  counteract  the  designs  of  the 
speaker,  party  spirit  is  the  most  pernicious,  being  at 
once  the  most  inflexible  and  the  most  unjust.  Violent 
party  men  not  only  lose  all  sympathy  with  those  of 
the  opposite  side,  but  even  contract  an  antipathy  to 
them.  This,  on  some  occasions,  even  the  divinest 
eloquence  will  not  surmount. 

OF  STYLE. — The  first  requisite  of  Style,  not  only  in 
rhetorical,  but  in  all  other  compositions,  is  Perspicuity, 


RHETORIC.  123 

since  language,  which  is  not  clear  and  intelligible, 
fails  so  far,  of  the  purpose  for  which  language  is  em- 
ployed. Perspicuity  is  a  relative  quality,  and  conse- 
quently cannot  properly  be  predicated  of  any  work 
Avithout  a  tacit  reference  to  the  class  of  readers  or 
hearers  for  whom  it  is  designed.  Nor  is  it  enough 
that  the  style  is  such  as  they  are  capable  of  under- 
standing, if  they  bestow  their  utmost  attention.  The 
degree  and  kind  of  attention  which  they  have  been  ac- 
customed, or  are  likely,  to  bestow,  will  be  among  the 
circumstances  that  are  to  be  taken  into  the  account,  and 
provided  for.  When  a  numerous  and  very  mixed  au- 
dience is  to  be  addressed,  much  skill  will  be  required 
in  adapting  the  style,  arguments,  and  the  whole  struc- 
ture of  the  discourse  to  the  various  minds  which  it  is 
designed  to  impress. 

Extreme  conciseness  is  ill-suited  to  readers  or  hear- 
ers whose  intellectual  powers  and  cultivation  are  but 
small.  It  is  remarked  by  anatomists  that  a  nutritive 
quality  is  not  the  only  requisite  in  food,  but  that  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  distention  of  the  stomach  is  required  to 
enable  it  to  act  with  its  full  powers  ;  and  that  it  is  for  this 
reason  that  hay  and  straw  and  corn  must  be  given  to 
horses  and  cattle,  in  order  to  supply  the  necessary 
bulk.  Something  analogous  to  this  takes  place  in  the 
generality  of  minds,  which  are  incapable  of  thoroughly 
digesting  and  assimilating  what  is  presented  to  them, 
however  clearly,  in  a  very  small  compass.  Many  a 
man  is  capable  of  deriving  instruction  from  a  mode- 
rate sized  volume  when  he  could  not  receive  it  from  a 
small  pamphlet,  even  more  perspicuously  written,  and 
containing  everything  to  the  purpose.  It  is  necessary 


124  RHETOEIC. 

that  the  attention  should  be  detained  a  certain  time  on 
the  subject ;  and  persons  of  unphilosophical  mind, 
though  they  can  attend  to  what  they  read  or  hear,  are 
unapt  to  dwell  upon  it  in  the  way  of  subsequent  med- 
itation. On  the  other  hand,  a  wearisome  prolixity  is 
also  carefully  to  be  avoided,  for  this  bewilders  the 
reader  or  hearer,  and  deprives  him  of  the  disposition 
to  attend  properly  to  the  discourse. 

In  adapting  the  style  to  the  comprehension  of  the 
illiterate,  a  caution  is  to  be  observed  against  the  ambi- 
guity of  the  word  "  plain,"  which  is  opposed  sometimes 
to  obscurity,  and  sometimes  to  ornament.  The  vulgar 
require  a  perspicuous,  but  by  no  means  a  dry  and 
unadorned  style ;  on  the  contrary,  they  have  a  taste 
rather  for  the  over-florid,  tawdry  and  bombastic  ;  nor 
are  the  ornaments  of  style  by  any  means  inconsistent 
with  perspicuity.  Metaphor,  which  is  among  the 
principal  of  them,  is  indeed,  in  many  cases,  the  clear- 
est mode  of  expression  that  can  be  adopted,  it  being 
usually  much  easier  for  uncultivated  minds  to  compre- 
hend a  similitude  or  analogy  than  an  abstract  term. 
Hence,  the  language  of  savages,  as  has  often  been 
remarked,  is  highly  metaphorical ;  and  such  appears 
to  have  been  the  case  with  all  languages  in  their  earlier, 
and  consequently  ruder  and  more  savage  stale  ;  many 
terms  relating  to  the  mind  and  its  operations,  being, 
as  appears  from  their  etymology,  originally  metaphori- 
cal, though  by  long  use  they  have  ceased  to  be  so. 

Men  frequently  admire  as  eloquent,  and  sometimes 
admire  the  most,  what  they  do  not  at  all,  or  do  not 
fully  comprehend,  if  lofty  and  high-sounding  words 
be  arranged  in  graceful  and  sonorous  periods.  Those 


RHETORIC.  125 

of  uncultivated  minds,  especially,  are  apt  to  think 
meanly  of  anything  that  is  brought  down  perfectly  to 
the  low  level  of  their  capacity ;  though  to  do  this  with 
respect  to  valuable  truths,  is  one  of  the  most  admirable 
feats  of  genius.  They  admire  the  profundity  of  one 
who  is  mystical  and  obscure,  mistaking  the  muddiness 
of  the  water  for  depth,  and  magnifying  in  their  imagi- 
nations what  is  viewed  through  a  fog ;  and  they  con- 
clude that  brilliant  language  must  represent  some  bril- 
liant ideas,  without  troubling  themselves  to  inquire 
what  those  ideas  are. 

There  are  three  sorts  of  writing  wherein  we  are 
liable  to  be  imposed  upon  by  words  without  meaning. 
"  The  first  is  where  there  is  an  exuberance  of  metaphor. 
Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  where  temperately 
and  appositely  used,  metaphor  serves  to  add  light  to 
the  expression  and  energy  to  the  sentiment.  On  the 
contrary,  when  vaguely  and  intemperately"  used,  noth- 
ing can  serve  more  effectually  to  cloud  the  sense 
where  there  is  sense,  and  consequently  to  conceal  the 
defect  where  there  is  no  sense  to  show.  And  this  is 
the  case  not  only  where  there  is  in  the  same  sentence 
a  mixture  of  discordant  metaphors,  but  also  where  the 
metaphoric  style  is  too  long  continued.  -The  reason 
is  obvious.  In  common  speech  the  words  are  the 
immediate  signs  of  the  thought.  But  it  is  not  so 
here  ;  for  when  a  person,  instead  of  adopting  meta- 
phors that  come  naturally  and.opportunely  in  his  way, 
rummages  the  whole  world  in  quest  of  them,  and  piles 
them  one  upon  another ;  when  he  cannot  so  properly 
be  said  to  use  metaphor  as  to  talk  in  metaphor,  or 
rather  from  metaphor  runs  into  allegory,  and  from 


RHETORIC. 

thence  into  enigma, — his  words  are  not  the  immediate 
signs  of  his  thought,  they  are  at  best,  but  the  signs 
of  the  signs  of  his  thought. 

The  second  species  of  writing  wherein  we  are  liable 
to  be  imposed  upon  by  words  without  meaning,  is  that 
wherein  the  terms  most  frequently  occurring  denote 
things  which  are  of  a  complicated  nature,  and  to 
which  the  mind  is  not  sufficiently  familiarized.  Many 
of  those  notions  which  are  called  by  metaphysicians 
Mixed  Modes,  come  under  this  denomination.  Of 
these  the  instances  are  numerous  in  every  tongue, 
such  as  government,  church,  state,  constitution,  policy, 
power,  commerce,  legislature,  jurisdiction,  proportion, 
symmetry,  elegance,  fyc.  It  will  considerably  increase 
the  danger  of  our  being  deceived  by  an  unmeaning  use 
of  such  terms,  if  they  are  besides,  as  very  often  they 
are,  of  so  indeterminate  and  consequently  equivocal 
significations,  that  a  writer,  unobserved  either  by  him- 
self or  by  his  reader,  may  slide  from  one  sense  of  the 
term  to  another,  till  by  degrees  he  falls  into  such  appli- 
cations of  it,  as  will  make  no  sense  at  all. 

The  third,  and  we  may  add,  the  principal  species 
of  composition  wherein  we  are  exposed  to  this  ilhu 
sion,  is  that  in  which  the  terms  employed  are  very 
abstract,  and  consequently  of  very  extensive  significa- 
tion. This  arises  from  the  nature  and  structure  of 
language  ;  the  more  general  any  name  is,  as  it  com- 
prehends the  more  individuals  under  it,  and  conse- 
quently requires  the  more  extensive  knowledge  in  the 
mind  that  would  rightly  apprehend  it,  the  more  it 
must  have  of  indistinctness  and  obscurity. 

OF  ENERGY. — Energy  of  style  comprehends  every- 


BHETORIC.  127 

thing  that  may  conduce  to  stimulate  attention,  to 
impress  strongly  on  the  mind  the  arguments  adduced, 
to  excite  the  imagination  and  to  rouse  the  feelings.  It 
must  depend,  like  perspicuity,  on  the  choice  of  words, 
their  number,  and  their  arrangement.  The  principal 
rule  for  guiding  our  choice  with  a  view  to  energy,  is 
to  prefer  those  words  which  are  the  least  abstract  and 
general.  Individuals  alone  having  a  real  existence, 
the  terms  denoting  them  will  of  course  make  the  most 
vivid  impression  on  the  mind,  and  exercise  most  the 
power  of  conception.  The  more  general  the  terms 
are,  the  fainter  is  the  picture ;  the  more  special  they 
are,  the  brighter.  The  same  sentiment  may  be 
expressed  with  equal  justness  and  even  equal  perspi- 
cuity, in  the  former  way  as  in  the  latter,  but  as  the 
coloring  will  in  that  case  be  more  languid,  it  cannot 
give  equal  pleasure  to  the  fancy,  and  consequently, 
will  not  contribute  so  much  either  to  fix  the  attention, 
or  impress  the  memory. 

The  only  appropriate  occasion  for  using  the  more 
general  terms  is  when  we  wish  to  aroid  giving  a  vivid 
impression  ;  when  our  object  is  to  soften  what  is  offen- 
sive, disgusting,  or  shocking,  as  when  we  speak  of  an 
"execution"  for  a  hanging  or  beheading,  of  which 
kind  of  expressions  common  discourse  furnishes  num- 
berless instances.  On  the  other  hand,  in  Antony's 
speech  over  Caesar's  body,  his  object  being  to  excite 
horror,  Shakspeare  puts  into  his  mouth  the  most  par- 
ticular expressions.  "  Those  honorable  men  " — not 
who  killed  Caesar — but  "  whose  daggers  have  stabbed 
Caesar." 

Metaphors    may  be    employed,   as   Aristotle  has 


128  RHETORIC. 

observed,  either  to  elevate  or  to  degrade  the  subject, 
according  to  the  design  of  the  speaker,  being  drawn 
from  similar  or  corresponding  objects  of  a  higher  or 
lower  character.  Thus  a  loud  and  vehement  speaker 
may  be  described  either  as  lelloiving  or  as  thunder- 
ing ;  and  in  both  cases,  if  the  metaphor  is  apt  and 
suitable  to  the  purpose  designed,  it  is  alike  conducive 
to  energy.  Of  metaphors,  those  generally  conduce 
most  to  energy  and  vivacity  of  style,  which  illustrate 
an  intellectual,  by  a  sensible,  object ;  the  latter  being 
always  the  most  early  familiar  to  the  mind,  and  gen- 
erally giving  the  most  distinct  impression  of  it.  Thus 
we  speak  of  "  unbridled  rage,"  "  deep-rooted  preju- 
dice," "glowing  eloquence,"  "a  stony  heart,"  &c. 
And  a  similar  use  may  be  made  of  the  figure  called 
Metonymy,  as  when  we  speak  of  the  "  throne  "  or  the 
"  crown  "  for  "  royalty"  the  "  sivord  "  for  "  military 
violence,"  &c.  But  the  highest  degree  of  energy  is 
produced  by  such  metaphors  as  attribute  life  and 
action  to  things  inanimate ;  and  that  even  when  by 
this  means  the  last  mentioned  rule  is  violated,  that  is, 
when  sensible  objects  are  illustrated  by  intellectual. 
The  disadvantage  here  is  Overbalanced  by  the  vivid 
impression  produced  by  the  idea  of  personality  or 
activity  ;  as  when  we  speak  of  the  rage  of  a  torrent, 
&c.  Thus  in  the  book  of  Genesis,  "  the  voice  of  thy 
brother's  blood  crieth  to  me  from  the  ground."  This 
is  called  Personification. 

It  is  a  common  practice  with  some  writers  to 
endeavor  to  add  force  to  their  expressions  by  accumu- 
lating high-sounding  epithets,  denoting  the  greatness, 
beauty,  or  other  admirable  qualities  of  the  things 


RHETORIC.  129 

spoken  of;  but  the  effect  is  generally  the  reverse  of 
what  is  intended.  Most  readers,  except  those  of  a  very 
vulgar  or  puerile  taste,  are  disgusted  at  studied  efforts 
to  point  out,  and  force  upon  their  attention,  whatever 
is  remarkable  ;  and  this  even  when  the  ideas  conveyed 
are  themselves  striking.  In  fact,  a  principal  device  in 
the  fabrication  of  the  mock-eloquent  style,  is  to  multi- 
ply epithets. 

With  respect  to  the  number  of  words  employed,  it  is 
certain  that  of  whatever  kind  the  sentiment  be,  witty, 
humorous,  grave,  animated,  or  sublime,  the  more 
briefly  it  is  expressed,  the  energy  is  the  greater.  As 
when  the  rays  of  the  sun  are  collected  into  the  focus 
of  a  burning  glass,  the  smaller  the  spot  is  which 
receives  them,  compared  with  the  surface  of  the  glass, 
the  greater  is  the  splendor ;  so,  in  exhibiting  our  sen- 
timents by  speech,  the  narrower  the  compass  of  words 
is  wherein  the  thought  is  confined,  the  more  energetic 
is  the  expression.  Accordingly  we  find  that  the  very 
same  sentiment  which,  expressed  diffusely,  will  be 
admitted  barely  to  be  just,  expressed  concisely,  will  be 
admired  as  spirited. 

In  aiming  at  a  concise  style,  however,  care  must  be 
taken  that  it  be  not  crowded.  The  frequent  recur- 
rence of  considerable  ellipses,  even  when  obscurity 
does  not  result  from  this,  will  produce  an  appearance 
of  affected  and  laborious  compression,  which  is  offen- 
sive. The  author  who  is  studious  of  energetic  brevity 
should  aim  at  what  may  be  called  a  suggestive  style ; 
that  is,  such  as  shall  put  the  hearer's  mind  into  the 
same  train  of  thought  as  the  speaker's,  and  suggest  to 
him  more  than  is  actually  expressed, 
i 


130  RHETORIC. 

PERIODS. — By  a  Period  is  to  be  understood  any 
sentence,  whether  simple  or  complex,  which  is  so 
framed  that  the  grammatical  construction  will  not 
admit  of  a  close  before  the  end  of  it ;  a  sentence  in 
which  the  meaning  remains  suspended  till  the  whole  is 
finished.  A  loose  sentence,  on  the  contrary,  is  any  one 
that  is  not  a  Period  ;  any  one  whose  construction  Avill 
allow  of  a  stop,  so  as  to  form  a  perfect  sentence  at  one 
or  more  places  before  we  arrive  at  the  end.  Periods, 
or  sentences  nearly  approaching  to  periods,  have  the 
advantage  in  point  of  energy.  An  unexpected  con- 
tinuation of  a  sentence  which  the  reader  had  supposed 
to  be  concluded,  especially  if,  in  reading  aloud,  he  had, 
under  that  supposition,  dropped  his  voice,  is  apt  to 
produce  a  sensation  in  the  mind,  of  being  disagreeably 
balked,  analogous  to  the  unpleasant  jar  which  is  felt 
when  in  ascending  or  descending  stairs,  we  meet  with 
a  step  more  than  we  expected ;  and  if  this  be  often 
repeated,  as  in  a  very  loose  sentence,  a  kind  of  weari- 
some impatience  results  from  the  uncertainty  when  the 
sentence  is  to  close. 

In  compositions  intended  to  be  spoken,  the  periodic 
style  is  much  less  necessary,  and  therefore,  much  less 
suitable,  than  in  those  designed  for  the  closet.  The 
speaker  may,  in  most  instances,  by  the  skilful  suspen- 
sion of  his  voice,  give  to  a  loose  sentence,  the  effect  of 
a  period ;  and  though  in  both  species  of  composition, 
the  display  of  art  is  to  be  guarded  against,  a  more  un- 
studied air  is  looked  for  in  such  as  are  spoken. 

Antithesis  has  been  sometimes  reckoned  as  one  form 
of  the  Period ;  but  it  has  no  necessary  connection  with 
it.  One  clause  may  be  opposed  to  another  by  means 


RHETORIC. 


131 


of  some  contrast  between  corresponding  words  in  each, 
whether  or  not  the  clauses  be  so  connected  that  the 
former  could  not,  by  itself,  be  a  complete  sentence. 
Tacitus,  who  is  one  of  the  most  Antithetical,  is,  at  the 
same  time,  one  of  the  least  Periodic  of  all  the  Latin 
writers.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  however,  that  An- 
tithesis is  calculated  to  add  greatly  to  Energy.  Every- 
thing is  rendered  more  striking  by  contrast ;  and 
almost  every  kind  of  subject  affords  materials  for  con- 
trasted expressions.  If,  therefore,  the  language  be  so 
constructed  as  to  bring  together  these  opposites,  they 
throw  light  on  each  other  by  a  kind  of  mutual  reflec- 
tion, and  the  view  thus  presented  will  be  the  more 
striking. 

OFFENCES  AGAINST  BREVITY  AND  ENERGY. — The 
first  we  shall  mention  is  Tautology,  which  is  either  a 
repetition  of  the  same  sense  in  different  words,  or  a 
representation  of  anything  as  the  cause,  condition  or 
consequence,  of  itself.  Of  the  first,  take  the  following 
example  from  the  opening  lines  of  Addison's  Cato: 
"  The  dawn  is  overcast — the  morning  lowers, 
And — heavily  in  clouds  brings  on  the  day !  " 
Here  the  same  thought  is  repeated  thrice  in  different 
words.  Of  the  second  we  shall  quote  an  example 
from  Swift :  "  So  it  is  that  I  must  be  forced  to  get 
home,  partly  by  stealth,  and  partly  by  force."  It  is 
also  considered  a  Tautology  to  lengthen  sentences  by 
coupling  words  together  which  are  quite  or  nearly 
synonymous.  This  fault  is  very  common,  even  in 
writers  of  reputation.  "  In  the  Attic  commonwealth," 
says  Swift,  "  it  was  the  privilege  and  birthright  of 
every  citizen  and  poet  to  rail  aloud  and  in  public" 


132  RHETORIC. 

It  is  an  invariable  maxim  that  words  which  add 
nothing  to  the  sense  or  clearness,  must  diminish  the 
force  of  the  expression.  Yet  there  are  two  occasions 
where  synonymous  words  may  be  used.  One  is 
where  an  obscuro  term,  which  we  cannot  avoid  em- 
ploying, needs  to  be  employed  by  one  that  is  clearer. 
The  other  is  where  the  language  of  the  passions  is 
exhibited.  Passion  naturally  dwells  on  its  object ;  the 
impassioned  Speaker  always  attempts  to  rise  in  expres- 
sion, but  when  that  is  impracticable,  he  recurs  to  repe- 
tition and  synonymy,  and  thereby  in  some  measure 
produces  the  same  effect. 

The  second  offence  against  Brevity  is  Pleonasm, 
which  implies  superfluity,  or  more  than  enough. 
Here,  though  the  words  do  not,  as  in  Tautology, 
repeat  the  sense,  they  add  nothing  to  it.  For  instance, 
"  They  returned  back  again  to  the  same  city  from 
whence  they  came  forth."  The  five  words  in  italics 
are  mere  expletives.  They  serve  neither  for  orna- 
ment nor  use,  and  are  therefore  to  be  regarded  as  mere 
ineumbrances.  Yet  every  word  that  is  accounted  an 
expletive  is  not  always  a  pleonasm.  Do  and  did,  as 
the  signs  of  the  tenses,  are  frequently  necessary,  and 
sometimes  emphatical. 

The  third  fault  is  Verbosity,  which  differs  from 
Pleonasm  in  this :  in  the  Pleonasm  there  are  words 
which  add  nothing  to  the  sense  ;  in  the  Verbose  man- 
ner, not  only  single  words,  but  whole  clauses  may 
have  a  meaning,  and  yet  it  is  better  to  omit  them, 
because  what  they  mean  is  unimportant,  and  instead 
of  enlivening  the  expression,  they  make  it  languish. 
Thero  are,  however,  some  occasions  on  which  an 


RHETORIC. 


133 


exuberance  of  words  or  circumlocution  may  be  allowed 
for  the  sake  of  variety :  as  the  fair  sex  for  women,  the 
lamp  of  day  for  the  sun. 

DIGRESSION,  TRANSITION,  AND  AMPLIFICATION. — Di- 
gression is  a  going  off  from  the  subject  to  some  different 
thing,  which  may,  however,  be  of  service  to  it.  At 
first,  when  a  subject  is  of  itself  flat  and  dry,  or  requires 
close  attention,  it  is  useful  to  relieve  and  unbend  the 
mind  by  something  agreeable  and  entertaining.  For 
this  reason  Quintilian  observes  that  the  orators  of 
his  time  generally  made  an  excursion  in  their  ha- 
rangues, upon  some  pleasing  topic,  between  the  narra- 
tion and  the  proof.  Cicero,  in  his  prosecution  of 
Verres  for  his  outrages  against  the  Sicilians,  launches 
out  into  a  beautiful  description  of  the  island  and  re- 
counts the  benefits  which  the  Romans  derived  from  it. 
His  subject  did  net  strictly  lead  him  to  this,  but  his 
view  was  to  heighten  and  aggravate  the  charge  against 
Verres. 

Digressions  ought  not  to  be  made  without  reason, 
lest  they  introduce  confusion ;  and  they  should  not  be 
too  long,  lest  the  hearers  forget  what  preceded,  before 
the  speaker  returns  again  to  his  subject. 

Transitions  are  often  used,  not  only  after  a  digres- 
sion, but  on  other  occasions.  A  Transition  is  a  form 
of  speech  by  which  the  speaker,  in  a  few  words,  tells 
his  hearers,  both  \vhat  he  has  said  already,  and  what 
he  designs  next  to  say.  Where  a  discourse  consists 
of  several  parts,  this  is  often  very  proper  in  passing 
from  one  to  another,  especially  when  the  parts  are  of 
considerable  length.  It  is  likewise  a  great  relief  to 
the  attention  to  be  told  when  an  argument  is  finished, 


134  RHETORIC. 

and  what  is  to  be  expected  next ;  and  therefore  we 
meet  with  it  very  frequently  in  history.  But  at  pres- 
ent it  is  chiefly  made  use  of  by  orators. 

By  Amplification  is  meant,  not  barely  a  method  of 
enlarging  upon  a  thing,  but  so  to  represent  it  in  the 
fullest  and  most  comprehensive  view,  as  that  it  may 
in  the  liveliest  manner  strike  the  mind  and  influence 
the  feelings.  Yet  to  amplify  is  not  to  set  things  in  a 
false  light,  but  to  paint  them  in  their  just  proportion 
and  proper  colors,  suitable  to  their  nature  and  qualities. 
Rhetoricians  have  observed  several  ways  of  doing 
this.  One  is  to  ascend  from  particular  things  to  gene- 
ral. Another  is  to  descend  from  generals  to  particu- 
lars ;  and  a  third  is  by  an  enumeration  of  parts,  or  an 
illustration  by  a  variety  of  causes. 

ELEGANCE. — This  requires  that  all  coarse  and 
homely  words  and  phrases  should  be  avoided,  even  at 
the  expense  of  circumlocution,  though  they  may  be  the 
most  apt  and  forcible  that  the  language  can  supply. 
Elegance  implies  a  smooth  and  easy  flow  of  words  in 
respect  of  the  sound  of  the  sentences  ;  though  a  more 
harsh  and  abrupt  mode  of  expression  may  often  be,  at 
least,  equally  energetic.  Accordingly  many  men  are 
generally  acknowledged  to  be  forcible  writers,  to  whom 
no  one  would  give  the  praise  of  Elegance  ;  and  many 
who  are  allowed  to,  be  elegant,  are  yet  by  no  means 
vigorous  and  energetic. 

SUBLIMITY. — This  consists  both  in  the  thoughts  and 
the  language.  Lofty  and  grand  sentiments  are  the 
basis  of  the  true  sublime  Longinus,  therefore,  ad- 
vises those  who  aspire  to  this  excellence,  to  accustom 
themselves  to  think  upon  the  noblest  subjects.  The 


RHETORIC.  135 

sublime  is  consistent  with  the  greatest  plainness  and 
simplicity  of  expression,  as  "  God  said,  let  there  be 
light,  and  there  was  light."  Generally  speaking,  the 
more  plain  and  natural  the  images  appear,  the  more 
they  surprise  us.  Those  words  and  expressions 
chiefly  contribute  to  form  the  sublime  which  are  most 
sonorous,  and  have  the  greatest  splendor,  force,  and 
dignity.  Exact  rules,  of  course,  cannot  be  given,  to 
teach  a  sublime  style  of  writing  or  speaking. 


It  may  be  expected  that  we  should  say  something 
of  Elocution,  or  the  mechanical  part  of  reading  and 
speaking.  But  that  which  relates  to  the  management 
of  the  voice  and  gesture,  can  be  learnt  only  by  practice. 
In  other  respects  the  requisites  of  Elocution  correspond 
with  those  of  Style.  The  three  qualities  of  Perspi- 
cuity, Energy  and  Elegance  belong  to  Elocution, 
which,  in  order  to  be  perfect,  must  convey  the  mean- 
ing CLEARLY,  FORCIBLY,  and  AGREEABLY. 


MOKAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  is  the  science  of  Manners  and 
Duty,  which  it  traces  from  man's  nature  and  con- 
dition, and  shows  to  terminate  in  his  happiness.  In 
other  words,  it  is  the  knowledge  of  our  duty  and 
Felicity,  or  the  art  of  being  virtuous  and  happy.  It 
is  denominated  an  art,  as  it  contains  a  system  of  rules 
for  becoming  virtuous  and  happy.  Whoever  practises 
these  rules,  attains  an  habitual  power  or  facility  of  be- 
coming virtuous  and  happy.  It  is  likewise  called  a 
science,  as  it  deduces  those  rules  from  the  principles 
and  connections  of  our  nature,  and  proves  that  the  ob- 
servance of  them  is  productive  of  our  happiness. 

Moral  Philosophy  has  this  in  common  with  Natural 
Philosophy,  that  it  appeals  to  nature  or  fact,  depends 
on  observation,  and  builds  its  reasonings  on  plain,  un- 
controverted  experiments,  or  upon  the  fullest  induction 
of  particulars  which  the  subject  will  admit.  Moral 
Philosophy  inquires,  not  how  man  might  have  been, 
but  how  he  is,  constituted ;  not  into  what  principles  or 
dispositions  his  actions  may  be  artfully  resolved,  but 
from  what  principles  and  dispositions  they  actually 
flow  :  not  what  he  may  by  education,  habit,  or  foreign 
influence,  come  to  be  or  do,  but  what  by  his  nature  or 
original  constituent  principles,  he  is  formed  to  be 
a.nd  do. 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  137 

OF  DUTY  OR  MORAL  OBLIGATION. — Reason  and 
Conscience  are  evidently  principles  different  in  nature 
and  kind  from  the  Passions  and  Affections.  The 
passions  are  mere  force  or  power,  blind  impulses, 
acting  violently  and  without  choice,  and  ultimately 
tending  each  to  their  respective  objects,  without  regard 
to  the  interest  of  the  others,  or  of  the  whole  system ; 
whereas  the  directing  and  judging  powers  distin- 
guish and  ascertain  the  different  forces,  mutual  pro- 
portions and  relations  which  the  passions  bear  to  each 
other  and  to  the  whole,  recognize  their  several  de- 
grees of  merit,  and  judge  of  the  whole  temper  and 
conduct,  as  they  respect  either  the  individual  or  the 
species  ;  and  are  capable  of  directing  or  restraining  the 
blind  impulses  of  passion  in  a  due  consistency  one 
with  the  other,  and  a  regular  subordination  to  the 
whole  system. 

It  is  by  the  end  or  design  of  any  power  or  move- 
ment that  we  must  direct  its  motions,  and  estimate  the 
degree  of  force  necessary  to  its  just  action.  If  it  wants 
the  force  requisite  for  obtaining  its  end,  we  reckon  it 
defective ;  if  it  has  too  much,  so  as  to  be  carried  be- 
yond it,  we  say  it  is  overcharged ;  and  in  either  case 
it  is  imperfect  and  ill-contrived.  If  it  has  just  enough 
to  reach  its  object,  we  esteem  it  right,  and  as  it  should 
be.  Let  us  apply  this  reasoning  to  the  passions. 

The  defence  and  security  of  the  individual  being  the 
aim  of  the  defensive  passions,  that  security  and  defence 
must  be  the  measure  of  their  strength  or  indulgence. 
If  they  are  so  weak  as  to  prove  insufficient  for  that 
end,  or  if  they  carry  us  beyond  it,  that  is,  raise  unne- 
cessary commotions,  or  continue  longer  than  is  need- 


138  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

ful,  they  are  unfit  to  answer  their  original  design,  and 
are  therefore  in  an  unsound  or  unnatural  state.  The 
exercise  of  fear  or  of  resentment,  has  nothing  desirable 
in  it,  nor  can  we  give  way  to  either  without  painful 
sensations.  But  without  a  certain  degree  of  them, 
we  are  naked  and  exposed.  On  the  other  hand,  with 
too  high  a  proportion  of  them,  we  are  miserable,  and 
often  injurious  to  others.  Thus  cowardice  or  timidity, 
which  is  the  excess  of  fear,  instead  of  saving  us  in 
danger,  gives  it  too  formidable  an  appearance,  makes 
us  incapable  of  attending  to  the  best  means  of  self- 
preservation,  and  deprives  us  of  courage,  our  natural 
armor.  Fool-hardiness,  which  is  the  want  of  a  due 
measure  of  fear,  leads  us  heedlessly  into  danger,  and 
lulls  us  into  a  pernicious  security.  Revenge,  that  is, 
excessive  resentment,  by  the  violence  of  its  commo- 
tion, robs  us  of  that  presence  of  mind  which  is  often 
the  best  guard  against  injury,  and  inclines  us  to  pur- 
sue the  aggressor  with  more  severity  than  self-defence 
requires.  Pusillanimity,  or  the  want  of  a  just  indig- 
nation against  wrong,  leaves  us  quite  unguarded,  and 
tends  to  sink  the  mind  into  a  passive,  enervated  tame- 
ness.  Therefore,  to  keep  the  defensive  passions  duly 
proportioned  to  our  dangers,  is  their  natural  pitch  and 
tenor. 

The  private  passions  lead  us  to  pursue  some  pos- 
itive species  of  private  good.  That  good,  therefore, 
which  is  the  object  and  end  of  each,  must  be  the 
measure  of  their  respective  force,  and  direct  their  oper- 
ations. If  they  are  too  weak  or  sluggish  to  engage 
us  in  the  pursuit  of  their  several  objects,  they  are  evi- 
dently deficient ;  but  if  they  defeat  their  end  by  their 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY.  139 

impetuosity,  then  are  they  strained  beyond  the  just 
tone  of  nature.  Thus  vanity,  or  an  excessive  passion 
for  applause,  betrays  us  into  such  meannesses  and 
little  arts  of  popularity  as  make  us  forfeit  the  honor 
we  so  anxiously  court.  On  the  other  hand,  a  total  in- 
difference about  the  esteem  of  mankind  removes  a 
strong  guard  and  active  spur  to  virtue,  and  lays  the 
mind  open  to  the  most  degrading  influences.  There- 
fore, to  keep  our  private  passions  and  desires  propor- 
tioned to  our  wants,  is  the  just  measure  and  pitch  of 
this  class  of  affections. 

In  like  manner  as  the  public  or  social  affections 
point  at  the  good  of  others,  that  good  must  be  the 
measure  of  their  force.  As  every  kind  of  affection 
points  at  the  good  of  its  particular  object,  it  is  possible 
that  there  may  be  sometimes  a  collision  of  interests  or 
goods.  Thus  the  regard  due  to  a  friend  may  inter- 
fere with  that  which  we  owe  to  the  community.  In 
such  a  competition  of  interests  it  is  evident  that  the 
greatest  is  to  be  chosen,  and  that  is  the  greatest  inter- 
est which  ^contains  the  greatest  sum  or  aggregate  of 
public  good — greatest  in  quantity  as  well  as  duration. 
This,  then,  is  the  common  standard  by  which  the  re- 
spective forces  and  subordinations  of  the  social  affec- 
tions must  be  adjusted. 

Thus  the  constitution,  or  just  economy  of  human 
nature,  consists  in  a  regular  subjection  of  the  pas- 
sions and  affections  to  the  authority  of  conscience,  and 
the  direction  of  reason.  That  subordination  is  regular 
when  the  proportions  just  mentioned  are  maintained. 
The  natural  state,  or  the  sound  and  vigorous  con- 
stitution of  any  creature,  or  the  just  economy  of 


140  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

its  powers,  we  call  its  health  and  perfection  ;  and  the 
acting  agreeably  to  .these,  its  virtue  or  goodfiess. 
Therefore  the  health  and  perfection  of  man  must  lie 
in  the  aforesaid  supremacy  of  conscience  and  reason, 
and  in  the  subordination  of  the  passions  to  their  au- 
thority and  direction.  And  his  virtue  or  goodness 
must  consist  in  his  acting  agreeably  to  that  order  or 
economy. 

To  describe,  therefore,  what,  perhaps,  we  cannot  de- 
fine ;  a  state  of  moral  obligation  is  that  state  in  which 
a  creature  endowed  with  such  senses,  powers  and 
affections  as  man,  would  condemn  himself,  and  think 
he  deserved  the  condemnation  of  all  others,  should  he 
refuse  to  fulfil  it ;  but  would  applaud  himself  and  think 
he  deserved  the  approbation  of  all  others  upon  comply- 
ing with  it.  And  we  call  him  a  Moral  Agent  who  is  in 
such  a  state,  or  is  subject  to  moral  obligation.  A 
morally  good  action,  then,  is  to  fulfil  a  moral  obliga- 
tion, knowingly  and  willingly ;  and  a  morally  bad 
action,  or  an  immoral  action,  is  to  violate  a  moral  obli- 
gation knowingly  and  willingly. 

If  it  be  asked,  after  all,  how  we  come  by  the  idea  of 
Moral  Obligation  or  Duty?  we  may  answer  that  we 
come  by  it  in  the  same  way  as  by  our  other  original 
and  primary  perceptions.  We  receive  them  all  from 
nature,  or  the  great  Author  of  nature.  For  this  idea 
of  moral  obligation  is  not  a  creature  of  the  mind,  or 
.  dependent  on  any  previous  act  or  volition ;  but  arises 
on  certain  occasions,  or  when  certain  other  ideas  are 
presented  to  the  mind,  as  necessarily,  instantaneously 
and  unavoidably  as  the  sensation  of  pain  or  pleasure 
when  excited  by  their  respective  causes. 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  141 

"  Every  one  feels,"  says  Dr.  Wayland,  "  that  it  is 
wrong  to  lie,  to  steal,  to  murder,  to  be  cruel.  Every 
one  feels  that  it  is  right  to  tell  the  truth,  to  be  honest, 
affectionate,  kind  and  grateful.  And  if  any  person 
will  think  for  a  moment,  he  will  perceive  that  there 
are  certain  results  which  always  follow  these  two  sorts 
of  actions.  If  any  one  do  wrong,  as  for  instance,  if  he 
lie,  or  steal,  or  abuse  another  person,  he  feels  a  pecu- 
liar sort  of  unhappiness  which  is  called  the  feeling  of 
guilt ;  he  is  afraid  of  being  detected,  he  wishes  he  had 
not  done  it,  and  if  he  be  detected,  he  knows  that  every 
one  dislikes  and  despises  him  for  his  conduct.  And, 
on  the  contrary,  if  he  have  done  right,  as  if  he  has  told 
the  truth,  has  been  grateful,  or  has  returned  good  for 
evil,  he  feels  a  peculiar  sort  of  pleasure  ;  he  is  satisfied 
with  himself,  and  knows  that  all  men  will  look  upon 
him  with  respect." 

Now  that  faculty  by  which  we  perceive  our  actions 
to  be  right  or  wrong,  and  which  begets  a  feeling  of 
pleasure  or  of  pain,  as  we  may  have  done  well  or  ill, 
is  denominated  conscience.  We  are  told  of  a  follower 
of  Pythagoras,  who  had  bought  a  pair  of  shoes  of  a 
cobbler,  for  which  he  promised  to  pay  him  at  some 
future  day.  He  went  with  the  money  on  the  day  ap- 
pointed, but  found  that  the  cobbler  had,  in  the  interim, 
departed  this  life.  Without  saying  anything  of  his 
errand,  he  withdrew,  secretly  rejoicing  at  the  oppor- 
tunity thus  unexpectedly  afforded  for  obtaining  a  pair 
of  shoes  for  nothing.  There  was  something  in  him, 
however,  which  would  not  permit  him  to  remain  quiet 
under  such  an  act  of  injustice  ;  so,  taking  up  the 
money,  he  returned  to  the  cobbler's  shop,  and  casting 


142  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

in  the  coin,  said,  "  Go  thy  way,  for  though  he  is  dead 
to  all  the  world  beside,  he  is  alive  to  me."  Such  is 
conscience,  such  the  principle  which  perceives  and 
enforces  moral  obligation. 

OF  THE  DISTINCTIONS  OF  DUTY  AND  VIRTUE. — Man 
owes  one  class  of  duties  to  himself;  a  second  to  soci- 
ety ;  and  a  third  to  God. 

The  duties  which  he  owes  to  himself  are  founded 
chiefly  on  the  defensive  and  private  passions  which 
prompt  him  to  pursue  whatever  tends  to  private  good 
or  happiness,  and  to  avoid  or  ward  off  whatever  tends 
to  private  ill  or  misery.  A  due  adjustment  of  our 
private  passions  to  our  wants,  we  call  temperance, 
which,  in  this  large  sense  of  the  word,  always  implies 
a  just  balance  or  command  of  the  passions.  The  sec- 
ond class  of  duties  arises  from  the  public  or  social  affec- 
tions, the  just  harmony  or  proportion  of  which  to  the 
dangers  and  wants  of  others,  and  to  the  several  rela- 
tions we  bear,  commonly  goes  by  the  name  of  justice. 
This  includes  the  whole  of  our  duty  to  society,  to  our 
parents,  to  the  general  polity  of  nature,  particularly 
gratitude,  friendship,  sincerity,  natural  affection,  be- 
nevolence, and  the  other  social  virtues.  The  third 
class  of  duties  respects  the  Deity,  and  arises  from  the 
public  affections,  and  the  several  glorious  relations 
which  he  sustains  toward  us  as  our  Creator,  Benefac- 
tor, Lawgiver  Judge,  &c.  The  duties  resulting  from 
these  relations  are  reverence,  gratitude,  love,  resigna- 
tion, dependence,  obedience,  worship  and  praise,  which 
must  maintain  some  sort  of  proportion  to  the  grandeur 
and  perfection  of  the  object  which  we  venerate,  love 
and  obey.  This  proportion  or  harmony  is  expressed 
by  the  general  name  of  piety  or  devotion. 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  143 

MAN'S  DUTY  TO  HIMSELF. — Every  creature,  by  the 
constitution  of  nature,  has  a  propensity  to  love  him- 
self, to  pursue  whatever  tends  to  his  preservation  and 
happiness,  and  to  avoid  whatever  tends  to  his  hurt  and 
misery.  Being  endued  with  sense  and  perception,  he 
must  necessarily  receive  pleasure  from  some  objects, 
and  pain  from  others.  Those  which  give  pleasure, 
are  called  good,  and  those  which  give  pain,  evil.  To 
the  former  he  feels  that  attraction  or  motion  which  we 
call  desire  or  love;  to  the  latter  that  impulse  called 
aversion  or  hatred;  to  those  which  suggest  neither 
pleasure  nor  pain,  he  feels  indifferent.  Besides  those 
sorts  of  objects  which  we  call  good,  merely  and  solely 
as  they  give  pleasure,  or  are  the  means  of  procuring 
it,  there  is  a  higher  and  nobler  species  of  good  towards 
which  we  feel  that  peculiar  movement  called  approba- 
tion or  moral  complacency,  and  which  we  therefore  de- 
nominate moral  good.  Such  are  our  affections  and 
the  actions  consequent  upon  them. 

The  goods  of  the  body,  or  of  the  external  senses, 
hold  the  lowest  rank  in  the  gradation  or  scale  of  goods. 
These  we  have  in  common  with  the  brutes.  Goods 
consisting  in  exterior  social  connexions,  as  fame,  for- 
tune, power,  civil  authority,  succeed  next,  and  are 
chiefly  valuable  as  the  means  of  procuring  natural  or 
moral  good,  but  principally  the  latter.  Goods  of  the 
intellect  are  still  superior,  as  taste,  knowledge,  memo- 
ry, judgment.  The  highest  are  moral  goods  of  the 
mind,  directly  and  ultimately  regarding  ourselves,  as 
prudence,  fortitude,  benevolence,  piety  and  command 
of  the  appetites  and  passions.  These  are  the  great 
objects  of  our  pursuit,  and  the  principal  ingredients 
of  our  happiness. 


144  MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

The  difference  between  self-love  as  an  innocent  part 
of  our  constitution,  and  selfishness,  or  a  vicious  dispo- 
sition, may  be  easily  seen.  Self-love  properly  directs 
our  choice  of  objects  where  all  are  equally  innocent. 
Selfishness  is  the  same  disposition  to  promote  our 
own  happiness  upon  the  whole,  but  it  disposes  us  to 
seek  it  in  objects  over  which  we  have  no  just  con- 
trol, that  is,  which  are  not  innocent,  and  which  we 
could  not  enjoy  without  violating  the  right  of  our 
neighbor.  When  conscience  speaks,  therefore,  the 
voice  of  self-love  must  be  silent ;  that  is  to  say,  we 
have  no  right  to  seek  our  own  happiness  in  any  man- 
ner at  variance  with  moral  obligation.  Man  was  de- 
signed to  be  made  happy  by  the  gratification  of  his  de- 
sires ;  but  when  the  gratification  of  desire  is  at  vari- 
ance with  virtue,  a  greater  happiness  is  to  be  obtained 
by  self-denial.  Or  in  other  words,  our  greatest  happi- 
ness is  to  be  obtained,  not  by  the  various  modes  of 
self-gratification,  but  by  simply  seeking  the  good  of 
others. 

DUTIES  TOWARD  SOCIETY. — Man's  social  duties  are 
first  towards  his  parents,  next  towards  his  brethren 
and  sisters,  &c.,  till  they  take  in  the  whole  human 
race.  We  have  room  only  to  speak  of  a  small  num- 
ber of  these  obligations. 

The  conjugal  duty  is  one  of  the  most  important.  It 
demands  mutual  fidelity  to  the  marriage-bed,  as  dis- 
loyalty defeats  the  very  end  of  marriage,  dissolves  the 
natural  cement  of  the  relation,  weakens  the  moral  tie, 
the  chief  strength  of  which  lies  in  the  reciprocity  of 
the  affection,  and  by  making  the  offspring  uncertain, 
diminishes  the  care  and  attachment  necessary  to  their 
education. 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  145 

The  duties  of  friendship  are  a  mutual  esteem  of 
each  other,  unbribed  by  interest,  and  independent  of 
it ;  a  generous  confidence,  as  far  distant  from  suspi- 
cion as  reserve,  an  inviolable  harmony  of  sentiments 
and  dispositions,  of  designs  and  interests ;  a  fidelity  un- 
shaken by  the  changes  of  fortune,  a  constancy  unalter- 
able by  distance  of  time  or  place,  and  a  resignation  of 
personal  interest  in  favor  of  one's  friend. 

Courtesy,  good  neighborhood,  affability  and  the  like 
duties,  which  are  founded  on  our  private  social  con- 
nexions, are  no  less  necessary  and  obligatory  to  crea- 
tures united  in  society,  and  supporting  and  supported 
by  each  other  in  a  chain  of  mutual  want  and  depend- 
ence. This  inferior  order  of  virtues  unites  the  parti- 
cular members  of  society  more  closely,  and  forms  the 
lesser  pillars  of  the  civil  fabric,  which  in  many  in- 
stances, supply  the  unavoidable  defects  of  laws. 

Justice,  or  fair-dealing,  or  in  other  words,  a  disposi- 
tion to  treat  others  as  we  would  be  treated  by  them, 
is  a  virtue  of  the  first  importance.  It  is  the  cement 
of  society,  or  that  pervading  spirit  which  connects  its 
members,  inspires  its  various  relations,  and  maintains 
the  order  and  subordination  of  each  part  of  the  whole. 
Without  it,  society  would  become  a  den  of  thieves  and 
banditti,  hating  and  being  hated,  devouring  and  being 
devoured,  by  one  another.  Upon  a  subject  of  such 
importance  it  may  be  well  to  enter  into  a  few  details : 

Justice  implies  in  its  general  sense  the  obligation  to 
render  to  every  one  what  is  his  due.  In  common  ac- 
ceptation, it  is  the  duty  of  being  honest  and  fair  in  all 
our  dealings.  But  it  has  a  farther  signification.  It 
not  only  binds  us  to  deal  equitably  in  matters  of  pro- 
j 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

perty,  but  requires  us  to  respect  the  feelings  and  char- 
acter of  others.  If  we  take  an  unfair  advantage  of  a 
man  in  a  bargain,  we  cheat  him  ;  if  we  take  away  his 
goods  or  merchandise,  without  his  consent,  we  are 
guilty  of  theft.  If  we  forcibly  take  away  another's 
purse,  we  are  a  robber.  For  all  these  acts  of  injus- 
tice, human  laws  provide  punishment ;  there  are  com- 
paratively few,  therefore,  who  will  be  guilty  of  such 
crimes.  But  there  are  many  persons  who  would  be 
shocked  at  the  idea  of  cheating,  thieving,  or  robbing  in 
matters  of  property,  who  have  no  scruples  in  cheat- 
ing another  of  what  might  be  due  to  his  character — 
of  stealing  away  his  peace  of  mind  or  robbing  him  of 
his  fair  fame.  But  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that 
justice  requires  fair  dealing  in  the  one  case  as  well  as 
the  other :  that  if  human  laws  watch  over  the  rights 
of  property,  the  all-seeing  eye  of  justice  watches  over 
the  subtler  rights  and  possessions  of  the  heart. 

It  is  true  we  have  walls  and  fences  to  protect  our 
lands  ;  bolts  and  bars  to  secure  our  merchandise  ;  we 
have  also  statutes  against  acts  of  injustice  in  respect 
to  property :  we  have  courts  to  try,  and  prisons  to 
punish  offenders  against  these  laws ;  and  all  this  ar- 
ray of  power  admonishes  every  member  of  society  to 
be  just  in  the  common  business  of  life.  But  there  are 
dearer  possessions  than  those  of  lands  and  merchan- 
dise, which  are  thus  protected.  "  He  who  steals  my 
purse  steals  trash,  but  he  who  robs  me  of  my  good 
name  leaves  me  poor  indeed."  And  how  shall  these 
delicate  interests  be  defended  ?  We  know  of  no  other 
mode  than  by  an  habitual  inculcation  of  these  truths, 
beginning  at  the  fireside,  and  carrying  it  through 
every  step  in  the  formation  of  character. 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY.  147 

Resignation  and  obedience  to  the  laws  and  orders 
of  the  society  to  which  we  belong  are  political  duties 
necessary  to  its  very  being  and  security,  without 
which  it  must  soon  degenerate  into  a  state  of  licen- 
tiousness and  anarchy.  The  welfare,  nay  the  nature 
of  civil  society,  requires  that  there  should  be  a  subor- 
dination of  orders,  and  diversity  of  ranks  and  conditions 
in  it ;  that  certain  men,  or  orders  of  men,  be  appoint- 
ed to  superintend  and  manage  such  affairs  as  concern 
the  public  safety  and  happiness ;  that  all  have  their 
particular  provinces  assigned  them  ;  that  such  a  sub- 
ordination be  settled  among  them  that  none  of  them  may 
interfere  with  one  another ;  and  finally,  that  certain 
rules  or  common  measures  of  action  be  agreed  on,  by 
which  each  is  to  discharge  his  respective  duty  to  gov- 
ern or  be  governed,  and  all  may  concur  in  securing 
the  order  and  promoting  the  felicity  of  the  whole  poli- 
tical body.  These  rules  of  action  are  the  laws  of  the 
community ;  and  these  different  orders  are  the  several 
officers  or  magistrates  appointed  by  the  public  to  ex- 
plain them,  and  superintend  their  execution.  In  con- 
sequence of  this  adjustment  of  things,  it  is  the  duty  of 
each  individual  to  obey  the  laws  enacted,  and  to  sub- 
mit to  the  executors  of  them  with  all  due  deference, 
according  to  their  rank  and  station.  As  the  object 
of  society  is  the  common  interest  and  welfare  of  the 
people  associated,  this  object  must  of  necessity  be  the 
supreme  law,  or  common  standard,  by  which  the  rules 
of  action  of  the  several  members  of  the  society  are  to 
be  regulated. 

Therefore  a  society,  or  government,  or  republic, 
truly  worthy  of  the  name,  must  be  such  a  one  as  con- 


148 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


sists  of  freemen  choosing,  or  consenting  to,  laws  them- 
selves ;  or  since  it  happens  that  they  cannot  assemble 
and  act  in  a  collective  body,  delegating  a  sufficient 
number  of  representatives,  such  a  number  as  shall 
most  fully  comprehend,  and  most  equally  represent, 
their  common  feelings  and  common  interests.  A  so- 
ciety thus  constituted  by  common  reason,  and  formed 
on  the  plea  of  a  common  interest,  becomes  immediate- 
ly an  object  of  public  obedience  and  inviolable  attach- 
ment. 

Every  citizen  of  a  society  surrenders  the  right  of 
redressing  his  wrongs,  wholly  to  that  society  as  a  po- 
litical body.  Aggression  and  injury  in  no  case  justi- 
fy retaliation.  If  a  man's  house  be  attacked,  he  may 
indeed  forcibly  repel  the  robber,  because  in  this  case 
society  is  unable  at  the  instant  to  assist  him.  But  he 
is  at  liberty  to  put  forth  no  other  effort  than  that  ne- 
cessary to  protect  himself,  or  to  secure  the  aggressor 
for  the  purpose  of  delivering  him  over  to  the  judgment 
of  society.  If,  after  having  secured  him,  he  puts  him 
to  death,  it  is  murder. 

A  citizen  is  bound  to  obey  all  laws  made  in  accord- 
ance with  the  constituted  powers  of  society.  Hence 
we  are  in  no  manner  released  from  this  obligation  by 
the  belief  that  the  law  is  unwise  or  inexpedient.  We 
have  confided  the  decision  of  this  question  to  society, 
and  we  must  abide  by  that  decision.  To  do  other- 
wise would  be  to  constitute  every  man  the  judge  in 
his  own  case,  that  is,  to  allow  every  man  to  obey  or 
disobey,  as  he  pleased,  while  he  expected  from  every 
one  implicit  obedience. 

But  in  case  of  overbearing  tyranny  and  intolerable 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY.  149 

oppression  on  the  part  of  the  existing  government,  the 
people  have  the  right  to  resume  their  delegated  power 
and  call  their  trustees  to  an  account,  to  resist  usur- 
pation and  extirpate  tyranny.  Resistance,  therefore, 
being  undoubtedly  lawful  in  extraordinary  emergen- 
cies, the  question  can  only  be  with  regard  to  the  de- 
gree of  necessity  which  can  justify  resistance.  This 
should  be,  indeed,  the  last  refuge  in  desperate  cases, 
and  only  resorted  to  when  the  public  is  in  the  highest 
danger  from  violence  and  tyranny.  Resistance  to  au- 
thority is  commonly  attended  by  civil  war  ;  and  civil 
war  is,  of  all  the  evils  which  men  inflict  upon  them- 
selves, one  of  the  most  horrible. 

PATRIOTISM. — Such  is  the  general  theory  of  the  re- 
lations which  men  bear  to  government ;  but  we  wish 
to  enforce  these  views  by  a  few  details.  Patriotism, 
or  love  of  country,  is  a  sentiment  which  pervades  al- 
most every  human  breast,  and  induces  each  individual 
to  prefer  the  land  of  his  birth,  not  because  it  is  better 
than  another  country,  but  merely  because  it  is  his 
country.  This  sentiment  may  be  illustrated  by  a  va- 
riety of  anecdotes.  Many  of  the  Swiss,  on  account 
of  the  poverty  of  their  country,  are  induced  to  seek 
military  service  in  foreign  lands.  Yet,  in  their  volun- 
tary exile,  so  strong  is  their  affection  for  their  native 
hills,  that  whole  regiments  have  been  said  to  be  on  the 
point  of  desertion,  in  consequence  of  the  vivid  home- 
recollections  excited  by  one  of  their  national  songs. 

A  French  writer  informs  us  that  a  native  of  one  of 
the  Asiatic  isles,  amid  the  splendors  of  Paris,  behold- 
ing a  banana  tree  in  the  Garden  of  Plants,  bathed  it 
with  tears,  and  seemed  for  a  moment  to  be  transport- 


lOU  MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

ed  to  his  own  land.  The  Ethiopian  imagines  that 
God  made  his  sands  and  deserts,  while  angels  only 
were  employed  in  forming  the  rest  of  the  world.  The 
Maltese,  insulated  on  a  rock,  distinguish  their  island 
by  the  appellation  of  "  The  Flower  of  the  World." 
The  Javanese  have  such  an  affection  for  the  place  of 
their  nativity,  that  no  advantages  can  induce  them, 
particularly  the  agricultural  tribes,  to  quit  the  tombs 
of  their  fathers.  The  Norwegians,  proud  of  their 
barren  summits,  inscribe  upon  their  rix  dollars.  "  Spir- 
it, loyalty,  valor,  and  whatever  is  honorable,  let  the 
world  learn  among  the  rocks  of  Norway."  The  Es- 
quimaux are  no  less  attached  to  their  frigid  zone,  es- 
teeming the  luxuries  of  blubber  oil  for  food,  and  an 
ice  cabin  for  habitation,  above  all  the  refinements  of 
other  countries. 

Such  are  some  of  the  exhibitions  of  this  universal 
sentiment  in  less  refined  nations.  In  a  state  of  higher 
civilization,  it  becomes  a  more  exalted  passion,  and  is 
thus  beautifully  expressed  by  Scott : — 

"  Breathes  there  the  man,  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 

This  is  my  own,  my  native  land? 
"Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burned, 
As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned, 

From  wand'ring  on  a  foreign  strand  ? 
If  such  there  be,  go,  mark  him  well ; 
For  him  no  minstrel  raptures  swell ; 
High  though  his  titles,  proud  his  name, 
Boundless  his  wealth  as  wish  can  claim  j 
Despite  those  titles,  power  and  pelf, 
The  wretch,  concentred  all  in  self, 
Living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown, 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  151 

And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 

To  the  vile  dust,  from  whence  he  sprung, 

Unwept,  unhonored  and  unsung." 

It  might  at  first  seem  that  patriotism,  which  implies 
a  preference  of  one  country  over  another,  was  opposed 
to  philanthropy,  which  embraces  in  its  generous  scope 
the  whole  human  family.  But  a  consideration  of  the 
practical  effect  of  patriotism  will  lead  us  not  merely  to 
dismiss  all  distrust,  but  to  admire  that  dispensation  of 
providence,  by  which  the  inhabitants  of  every  land, 
whether  it  be  a  region  of  sterile  mountains,  or  an  in- 
hospitable climate  of  snow,  or  a  land  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey,  or  a  desert  of  sand,  are  attached  to 
the  soil  where  their  lot  is  cast.  In  the  first  place,  this 
love  is  a  source  of  contentment  and  happiness,  even 
though  it  may  be  founded  in  ignorance  or  false  com- 
parisons ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  it  excites  the  peo- 
ple to  seek  the  good  and  promote  the  prosperity  of  the 
inhabitants.  It  stimulates  them  to  act  individually 
and  unitedly,  and,  in  cases  of  emergency,  to  put  forth 
great  efforts  in  the  sacred  cause  of  country,  whether 
it  be  to  realize  some  desirable  object,  or  avert  some ' 
threatened  evil. 

Thus  it  would  appear  that,  by  implanting  this  sen- 
timent in  the  breast  of  man,  God  has  provided  an  ac- 
tive agent,  the  design  and  tendency  of  which  are  to 
cultivate  and  cherish  the  advantages  which  each  coun- 
try possesses ;  to  develop  its  resources,  to  increase  its 
comforts  and  riches,  to  raise  the  standard  of  civiliza- 
tion, and,  in  short,  to  promote  its  true  glory.  Such 
is  the  design  and  such  the  tendency  of  that  sentiment 
called  patriotism  ;  and  if  it  is  more  circumscribed  in 


lOZ  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

its  view  than  philanthropy,  it  is  far  removed  from  self- 
ishness, and  the  bosom  in  which  it  dwells  must  be  ex- 
alted and  purified,  in  proportion  to  the  sway  it  is  per- 
mitted to  exercise  over  the  heart. 

Patriotism,  love  of  country,  then,  is  not  merely  a 
justifiable  sentiment,  but  it  is  also  ennobling  to  the 
soul  which  feels  it,  and  beneficial  to  the  community 
which  calls  it  into  exercise.  It  is  alike  dictated  by 
nature  and  sanctioned  by  reason  and  religion.  It  be- 
comes, therefore,  a  fit  object  of  attention  to  all  enlight- 
ened minds,  and  is  worthy  of  the  particular  consider- 
ation of  every  one  charged  with  the  education  of 
youth.  While  springing  up  spontaneously  in  the 
heart,  it  should  be  strengthened  by  all  those  means 
which  are  known  to  exert  a  strong  influence  on  the 
young  mind.  Among  these  there  is  none,  perhaps, 
more  efficient  than  the  exhibition  of  fine  examples ; 
and  the  best  and  most  copious  source  of  them  is  to  be 
found  in  the  story  of  our  revolution.  The  striking 
instance  afforded  by  Mr.  Reed,  the  president  of  the 
continental  congress,  who,  although  offered  a  large 
•bribe  by  some  British  agents  to  betray  his  cojuntry, 
replied,  "  Gentlemen,  I  am  poor,  very  poor,  but,  poor 
as  I  am,  your  king  is  not  rich  enough  to  buy  me !  " 
is  one  of  those  which  not  only  furnishes  a  vivid  illus- 
tration of  high  patriotism,  but  is  likely  to  excite  in. 
the  breast  of  youth  a  glow  of  admiration  and  an  ar- 
dent spirit  of  emulation. 

DUTIES  OF  THE  AMERICAN  CITIZEN. — Whatever  may 
be  thought  of  it,  the  government  of  a  country  is  a  mat- 
ter of  the  greatest  consequence.  It  is  of  consequence 
not  only  in  a  general  point  of  view,  but  to  each  indi- 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

vidual.  There  is  not  a  living  soul  so  isolated  that  the 
influence  of  government,  good  or  bad,  may  not  reach 
him ;  and,  in  point  of  fact,  there  are  very  few  men, 
women  or  children,  of  any  generation,  who  are  not  in 
a  serious  degree  affected  by  government. 

We  here  speak  not  only  of  the  form  of  government, 
but  of  the  administration  of  it.  The  first  is  indeed  of 
importance,  but  the  latter  is  no  less  important ;  indeed, 
it  has  even  been  asserted  that  whatever  government 
is  best  administered,  is  best.  For  the  administration 
of  our  government,  the  people  are  responsible  in  a  high 
degree,  for  they  elect  the  individuals  who  administer 
it,  and  as  these  are  good  or  bad,  fit  or  unfit,  so  is  the 
administration  of  it. 

Now  let  it  be  considered,  for  a  moment,  what  is 
meant  by  government,  and  we  shall  then  see  how  im- 
mediately each  individual  is  interested  in  it,  and  how 
deeply  he  may  be  affected  by  it.  Government,  then, 
embraces  the  making  and  enforcing  all  those  laws 
which  are  designed  to  protect  life ;  all  those  laws 
which  are  designed  to  protect  property ;  all  those  laws 
which  should  insure  to  a  man  the  peaceable  possession 
of  his  home,  his  house,  and  his  fireside — which  should 
enable  him  to  collect  around  him  his  family  in  secur- 
ity, and  feel  persuaded  that  the  fruit  of  his  labor,  his 
skill,  and  his  care  is  so  guaranteed  to  him,  that  he 
may  appropriate  it  to  his  and  their  comfort  and  hap- 
piness. 

Nor  is  this  all  the  benefit  designed  to  be  conferred 
on  us  by  government.  It  is  this  which  should  provide 
a  system  of  general  education ;  it  is  this  which  should 
protect  us  in  the  free  exercise  of  our  religious  opinions ; 


154  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

it  is  this  which  should  enforce  justice  between  man 
and  man  :  it  is  this  which  should  regulate  commerce, 
and  render  it  a  source  of  national  and  individual 
wealth ;  it  is  this  which  should  protect  the  arts  and 
sciences,  and  give  encouragement  to  manufactures  and 
agriculture, — thus  increasing  the  comforts  and  enjoy- 
ments of  the  community. 

Such  a  thing  is  government ;  it  is  charged  with  all 
the  great  interests  of  the  community.  It  is  designed 
for  good  ;  but  let  us  consider-  that  it  is  as  pervading  as 
the  air  we  breathe  ; — that,  if  we  bar  our  doors,  it  will 
still  enter  our  houses,  and  exert  an  influence  upon  all 
our  interests.  But  government  is  not  a  machine  that 
goes  regularly  on,  necessarily  accomplishing  its  des- 
tined task.  If  it  be  compared  to  a  machine,  it  is  one 
that  needs  skilful  and  diligent  care.  It  may  be  neg- 
lected, get  into  disorder,  and  fail  of  its  proper  object ; 
or,  if  wickedly  or  selfishly  managed,  it  may  produce 
extensive  and  fatal  mischief. 

Government,  then,  though  destined  for  good,  is  only 
good  when  well  and  wisely  managed.  When  ill 
managed,  it  sometimes  fails  of  its  real  design,  and,  in- 
stead of  good,  produces  real  evil.  To  apply  it  to  our 
own  case,  suppose  that  the  government  falls  into  the 
hands  of  bad  men,  who  only  care  for  themselves,  and 
are  willing  to  sacrifice  the  good  of  the  people  to  their 
selfish  schemes.  What  then  is  our  situation  ?  It  is 
obvious  that  our  lives,  our  property,  the  peace  of 
our  homes  and  our  firesides,  the  produce  of  our  labor, 
the  great  cause  of  education,  the  rights  of  conscience, 
the  interests  of  justice,  the  paramount  interests  of  com- 
merce, agriculture  and  manufactures — all  the  great 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  155 

sources  of  wealth  and  prosperity,  all  the  dearest  inter- 
ests of  the  heart — are  committed  to  the  mercy  of  men 
who  have  no  mercy ;  men  who  look  upon  the  people 
as  their  servants  and  their  slaves,  to  be  gulled  and 
cheated,  and  used  as  their  own  interests  may  dictate  ! 

Such  must  be  our  situation  when  the  government 
falls  into  the  hands  of  artful,  selfish  and  designing 
men.  Nor  can  our  interests  be  much  safer  in  the 
hands  of  a  weak,  ignorant  or  incompetent  set  of  rulers. 
We  have  compared  government  to  a  machine.  It  may 
be  illustrated  by  a  manufactory  filled  with  various 
complicated  engines,  all  of  which  are  set  in  motion  by 
a  fall  of  water,  acting  upon  one  great  wheel.  Under 
a  skilful  and  vigilant  superintendent,  the  work  goes 
regularly  and  safely  on ;  the  great  wheel  communi- 
cates its  action  to  the  others,  and  a  vast  complication 
of  wheels,  and  bands,  and  cogs,  proceeds,  with  differ- 
ent degrees  of  celerity,  indeed,  but  each  according  to 
its  design,  and  each  accomplishing  the  end  for  which 
it  was  intended.  Thus  the  whole  establishment  goes 
on  with  safety  and  success.  But  suppose  that  the 
superintendents  are  ignorant,  and  do  not  understand 
the  machine ;  or  suppose  they  are  negligent  and  inat- 
tentive. Disorder  will  soon  creep  into  all  parts  of  the 
establishment.  There  will  be  the  grating  of  wheels 
here,  the  rending  of  bands  there,  and  the  crush  of  cogs 
in  another  place.  The  great  wheel  will  acquire  an 
irregular  motion ;  and  the  whole  work,  so  lately  a 
beautiful  and  useful  contrivance,  will  rush  into  a  state 
of  anarchy  and  utter  ruin. 

This  illustration  cannot  be  said  to  impute  too  much 
consequence  to  government.  Let  us  go  to  any  coun- 


156  MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

try,  ill  governed,  and  compare  it  with  one  well  gov- 
erned. Look  at  Turkey,  and  see  what  desolation 
covers  three  fourths  of  its  surface,  and  that  too  where 
the  soil  and  climate  are  celebrated  for  the  highest  fer- 
tility !  Look  into  society,  and  see  how  dreary  and 
comfortless  is  the  condition  of  the  greater  part  of  the 
people.  Compare  this  with  England,  where  the  soil 
is  naturally  poor  and  the  climate  forbidding,  and  see 
what  a  difference.  In  the  one  case,  poverty,  distrust, 
selfishness  and  ignorance  are  characteristics  of  the 
people,  while  wealth,  frankness,  liberality  and  intelli- 
gence are  common  to  them  in  the  other.  And  a  great 
part  of  this  difference  arises  from  the  difference  of 
government.  A  good  government  is,  then,  a  great 
blessing,  but  a  bad  government  is  a  curse.  The  Turks 
have  a  striking  proverb,  which  bitter  experience  has 
taught  them — no  grass  groics  where  the  sultan's  horse 
has  set  his  foot.  In  other  words,  prosperity  ceases  and 
desolation  comes  wherever  a  selfish  and  unprincipled 
ruler  has  sway. 

If  these  things  are  so,  what  does  patriotism  dictate 
to  an  American  citizen  ?  These  are  endowed  with  the 
right  to  act  in  the  choice  of  our  rulers.  No  one  is  depriv- 
ed of  this  right,  and  no  one,  consequently,  is  free  from 
the  responsibility  of  using  it,  and  using  it  wisely.  All 
may  vote,  and  many  may  exert  influence  upon  other 
voters.  This,  then,  is  the  situation  of  every  American 
citizen — he  has  the  power  to  exert  a  greater  or  less  in- 
fluence upon  the  choice  of  those  men  who  govern  the 
country ;  and  upon  this  choice  depend  the  happiness, 
the  peace,  the  prosperity,  of  nearly  twenty  millions 
of  people!  Such  is  the  vast  interest  at  stake,  and 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

such  the  high  responsibility  which  is  laid  upon  the 
soul  of  every  citizen  of  this  free  country.  No  one  can 
shrink  from  the  duties  which  follow  from  this  state  of 
things.  He  who  uses  his  vote  or  his  influence  self- 
ishly, basely  betrays  his  country ;  he  who  uses  them 
inconsiderately,  puts  at  hazard  the  interests  of  his 
country ;  he  who  neglects  or  refuses  to  use  them,  de- 
serts his  country,  and,  like  a  sentinel,  flies  from  his 
post  in  the  hour  of  need. 

Let  us  then  draw  a  few  inferences,  and  make  a  few 
observations  as  to  the  political  duties  of  each  American 
citizen. 

1.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  American  citizen  to  vote 
for  public  officers.     The  theory  of  our  government  in- 
volves the  doctrine  that  the  people  are  capable  of  gov- 
erning themselves.     And  so  they  doubtless  are.     But 
what  will  become  of  the  country  if  the  people  refuse 
or  neglect  to  vote  ?     The  safety  of  our  country  de- 
pends on  having  a  full  and  fair  representation  at  the 
polls  of  all  classes — rich  and  poor,  the  laborer  and  the 
capitalist,  the  refined  and  the  simple.     If  the  polls  are 
given  up  to  any  one  class,  will  the  rights  of  all  be  se- 
cured ?     No.     Let  every  citizen  vote  then ;   it  is  his 
bounden  duty. 

2.  It  is  his  duty  in  voting  to  lay  aside  selfish  and 
narrow  views,  and   act  as  he   conscientiously  thinks 
best  for  the  good  of  the  \vhole  country.     A  man  who 
carries  his  private  grudges,  and  particularly  his  own 
little  plans  and  schemes  to  the  ballot  box,  is  unworthy 
the  privilege  of  a  citizen. 

3.  He  should  act  for  no  party,  and  ivith  no  party, 
only  so  far  as  that  party  tends  to  promote  the  good  of 
the  whole  country. 


158  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

4.  Public  officers  being  public  agents  or  trustees,  to 
perform  certain  duties,  a  voter  should  choose  for  the 
public  as  for  himself;  he  should  take  care  never  to 
aid  in  electing  an  artful  and  dishonest  man,  for  he 
may  betray.     He  should  try  a  candidate,  strictly,  by 
the  questions  proposed  by  Mr.  Jefferson, — Is  he  capa- 
ble ?   Is  he  honest  ?   Is  he  a  friend  to  the  Constitution  ? 

5.  The  Scripture  says,  "  put  not  thy  trust  in  princes." 
We  may  add,  put  not  thy  trust  in  politicians !     Our 
real  safety  is  in  the  honesty  of  the  people.    If  they  are 
dishonest,  or  corrupt,  or  ignorant,  or  negligent,  we  are 
exposed  to  ruin.     The  child  will  partake  of  the  dis- 
eases of  the  parent ;  the  government  of  the  country, 
where  the  people  rule,  will  be  like  the  people,  good 
or  evil.     Is  there  any  man  among  us  so  bad  as  to  aid 
in  debasing,  corrupting,  destroying  our  government  ? 
Let  each  voter  read,  examine,  ponder,  and  act  intelli- 
gently and  honestly.     Let  the  people  act  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  make  politicians  see  that  honesty  is  their 
best  policy,  and  then  they  will  be  honest — not  other- 
wise. 

6.  Political  virtue,  like  all  other  virtue,  consists 
partly  in  self-sacrifice,  or  rather  in  considering  our 
own  interests  only  as  they  make  part   of  the  whole. 
The  spirit  of  '76  was  of  this  character ;  it  was  a  spirit 
of  self-forge tfulness,  self-denial,  self-sacrifice.     These 
times  of  peace  may  not  demand  the  same  acts  of  virtue, 
but  they  demand  the  same  kind  of  virtue.  Let  no  man, 
who  values  a  pure  conscience,  or  seeks  a  good  name, 
be  found  sacrificing  the  country  to  his  own  love  of 
office,  or  power,  or  fame.     Let  no  one,  who  values  his 
independence,  be  made  the  dupe  of  such  as  do  these 
things. 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  159 

7.  This  right  of  voting  is  a  great  matter.     It  is  a 
thing  for  which  millions  are  yearning  in  other  lands. 
Let  us  not  abuse  it.     It  is  a  vast  power.    It  gives  into 
our  hands  the  destiny  of  millions.     Will  any  one  trifle 
with  it  ?     Will  any  one  abuse  it  ?     Will  any  one  sell 
it  ?     Who  has  the  knavery  to  confess  to  himself  or  the 
world  that  he  will  lay  this  mighty  talent  up,  unused 
and  useless,  in  a  napkin ;  or  that  he  will  use  it  accord- 
ing to  his  prejudices ;  or  make  it  the  instrument  of 
his  own  ambition  ;  or  throw  it  away  upon  friendship, 
or  family  aggrandizement,  or  any  other  narrow,  per- 
sonal consideration  ?     Who  is  the  man  that  can  look 
into  his  own  bosom  and  confess  that  he  can  forget  his 
country,  forswear  patriotism,  and  do  these,  or  any  of 
these  things  ? 

8.  If  it  is  said  that  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  choose 
between  candidates  for  office,  let  us  bear  in  mind  one 
rule — that  it  is  never  safe  to  promote  the  political 
schemes  of  designing,  selfish  managers.     An  artful, 
cunning  intriguer  for  office  is  always  to  be  shunned 
by  honest  voters. 

9.  We  who  vote  are  acting  for  ourselves  and  our 
children.     We  may  spoil  the  great  and  good  work  of 
our  forefathers ;  we  shall  do  it  if  we  are  not  careful ! 
Who  will  aid  in  the  destruction  of  this  fabric,  which 
has  excited  the  admiration  of  the  world,  and  go  into 
the  land  of  spirits,  and  say  to  their  sires  and  grand- 
sires,  we  have  done  what  we  could  to  destroy  your 
work  ? 

Such  appear  to  be  the  views  which  every  American 
citizen  should  take  of  his  political  duties,  and  in  these, 
at  the  proper  age,  ought  not  fathers  carefully  to  instruct 


160  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

their  sons  ?  Ought  they  not  to  teach  them  that  we 
are  as  truly  bound  to  be  honest  and  true  in  dealing 
with  the  country  as  with  our  fellow-men?  Ought 
they  not  to  warn  them  against  the  infamous  maxim, 
current  with  some  people,  that  "  all  is  fair  in  poli- 
tics?" 

OF  MAN'S  DUTIES  TOWARD  GOD. — Of  all  the  rela- 
tions which  the  human  mind  sustains,  that  which  sub- 
sists between  the  Creator  and  his  creatures,  the 
Supreme  law-giver  and  his  subjects,  is  the  highest 
and  most  interesting.  This  relation  arises  from  the 
nature  of  a  creature  in  general,  and  the  constitution 
of  the  human  mind  in  particular,  the  noblest  powers 
and  affections  of  which  point  to  an  Universal  Mind, 
and  would  be  imperfect  and  abortive  without  such  a 
direction. 

The  mind,  in  its  progress  from  object  to  object,  from 
one  character  and  prospect  of  beauty  to  another,  finds 
some  blemish  or  deficiency  in  each,  and  soon  exhausts 
or  grows  weary  and  dissatisfied  with  its  subject.  It 
sees  no  character  of  excellency  among  men  equal  to 
that  pitch  of  esteem  which  it  is  capable  of  exerting, 
no  object  within  the  compass  of  human  things  ade- 
quate to  the  strength  of  its  affections  ;  nor  can  it  stay 
anywhere  in  this  self-expansive  progress,  or  find 
repose  after  its  highest  flights,  till  it  arrives  at  a  Being 
of  unbounded  greatness  and  worth,  on  whom  it  may 
employ  its  sublimest  powers  without  exhausting  the 
subject,  and  give  scope  to  the  utmost  force  and  fulness 
of  its  love.  The  native  propensity  of  the  mind  to 
reverence  whatever  is  great  and  wonderful  in  nature, 
finds  a  proper  object  of  homage  in  Him  who  spread 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  Ibl 

out  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  who  sustains  and 
governs  all  things. 

It  is  evident  from  the  slightest  survey  of  morals 
that  however  punctual  a  man  may  be  in  performing 
the  duties  which  result  from  his  relations  to  mankind, 
yet  to  be  deficient  in  performing  those  which  arise 
from  our  relation  to  the  Almighty,  must  argue  a 
strange  perversion  of  reason,  or  depravity  of  heart. 
To  love  society,  or  particular  members  of  it,  and  yet 
to  have  no  sense  of  our  connection  with  its  Head,  and 
no  affection  toward  our  common  Parent  and  Benefactor, 
is  indeed  preposterous. 

Our  affections  depend  on  our  opinions  of  their 
objects,  and  generally  keep  pace  with  them ;  it  must 
therefore  be  of  the  highest  importance,  and  seems  to 
be  among  the  first  duties  which  we  owe  to  the  Author 
of  our  being,  to  form  the  least  imperfect,  since  we 
cannot  form  perfect,  conceptions  of  his  character  and 
administration.  Such  conceptions  thoroughly  im- 
bibed, will  render  our  religion  rational,  and  our  dis- 
positions refined.  If  our  opinions  are  diminutive  and 
distorted,  our  religion  will  be  superstitious,  and  our 
temper  abject.  Thus  if  we  ascribe  to  the  deity  that 
false  majesty  which  consists  in  the  unbenevolent  and 
sullen  exercise  of  mere  will  or  power,  or  suppose  him 
to  delight  in  the  prostrations  of  servile  fear  or  as  ser- 
vile praise,  he  will  be  worshipped  with  mere  adula- 
tion, and  a  profusion  of  compliments.  If  he  be  looked 
upon  as  a  stern,  implacable  being,  delighting  in  ven- 
geance, he  will  be  adored  with  pompous  offerings, 
sacrifices,  or  whatever  else  may  be  thought  proper 
to  soothe  and  mollify  him.  But  if  we  believe  perfect 


102  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

goodness  and  perfect  justice  to  belong  to  the  character 
of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  that  he  loves  those  most 
who  resemble  him  most,  the  worship  paid  him  will  be 
rational  and  sublime,  and  his  worshippers  will  seek  to 
please  him  by  imitating  that  goodness  and  rectitude 
which  they  adore.  The  foundation,  then,  of  all  true 
religion,  is  a  rational  faith. 

Of  a  rational  faith,  these  seem  to  be  the  chief  arti- 
cles :  To  believe  that  an '  infinite,  all-perfect  Mind 
exists,  who  has  no  opposite  nor  any  separate  inter- 
est from  that  of  his  creatures.  That  he  superin- 
tends and  governs  all  creatures  and  things.  That  his 
goodness  extends  to  all  his  creatures,  in  different 
degrees  indeed,  according  to  their  respective  natures, 
but  without  any  partiality  or  envy.  That  he  does 
everything  for  the  best,  or  in  a  subserviency  to  the 
perfection  and  happiness  of  the  whole.  That  in  par- 
ticular, he  directs  and  governs  the  affairs  of  men, 
inspects  their  actions,  distinguishes  the  good  from  the 
bad;  loves  and  befriends  the  former,  is  displeased 
with,  and  pities  the  latter  in  this  world,  and  will, 
according  to  their  respective  deserts,  reward  the  one 
and  punish  the  other  in  the  next.  That  in  fine,  he  is 
always  carrying  on  a  scheme  of  virtue  and  happiness 
through  an  unlimited  duration,  and  is  even  guiding 
the  universe  through  its  successive  stages  and  periods, 
to  higher  degrees  of  perfection  and  felicity. 

Wherever  right  conceptions  of  the  Deity  and  his 
providence  prevail,  where  he  is  considered  as  the 
inexhaustible  source  of  light,  and  love,  and  joy;  as 
acting  in  the  joint  character  of  a  Father  and  Gov- 
ernor, imparting  an  endless  variety  of  capacities  to  his 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY.  163 

creatures,  and  supplying  them  with  everything  neces- 
sary for  their  happiness,  the  sentiment  of  veneration 
and  gratitude  must  be  excited  in  the  mind.  A 
faith,  thus  founded,  and  deeply  felt,  is  nearly  connected 
with  a  true  moral  taste,  and  has  a  powerful  efficacy 
on  the  temper  and  manners  of  the  believer.  It  is  the 
duty  of  every  man  to  be  grateful  and  devout  towards 
God.  This  is  internal  piety,  or  the  worship  of  the 
mind. 

All  those  affections  which  regard  the  Deity  as  their 
immediate  and  primary  object,  are  vital  energies  of 
the  soul,  and  consequently  exert  themselves  into  acts, 
and  like  all  other  energies,  gain  strength  and  activity 
by  exertion.  It  is  therefore  our  duty,  at  stated  times, 
and  by  decent  and  solemn  acts,  to  contemplate  and 
adore  the  great  Original  of  our  existence,  the  Parent 
of  all  beauty  and  all  good ;  to  express  our  veneration 
and  love  by  a  devout  recognition  of  his  perfections,  and 
to  evince  our  gratitude  by  celebrating  his  goodness, 
and  thankfully  acknowledging  all  his  benefits.  It  is 
likewise  our  duty,  by  proper  exercises  of  sorrow  and 
humiliation,  to  confess  our  ingratitude  and  folly,  to 
signify  our  dependence  upon  him  and  our  submission 
and  resignation  to  his  will.  Such  are  the  duties  of 
Public  Worship. 

As  God  is  the  parent  and  head  of  the  social  sys- 
tem ;  as  he  has  formed  us  for  a  social  state  ;  as  by  the 
one  we  find  the  best  security  against  the  ills  of  life, 
and  in  the  other  enjoy  the  greatest  comforts ;  and  as 
by  means  of  both,  our  nature  attains  its  highest  im- 
provement and  perfection ;  and  moreover  there  are 
public  blessings  and  public  transgressions  in  which  we 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

all  share  in  some  degree,  and  public  wants  and  dan- 
gers to  which  we  are  all  exposed  ; — it  is  therefore  evi- 
dent that  the  various  and  solemn  offices  of  public  reli- 
gion, are  duties  of  indispensable  moral  obligation 
among  the  firmest  cements  of  society,  the  surest  prop 
of  government,  and  the  fairest  ornament  of  the  whole 
social  system. 

We  have  here  given  a  sketch  of  Moral  Philosophy, 
as  deduced  from  the  reflections  of  the  mind  upon  man's 
character  and  relations.  We  may  add  that  these  views 
acquire  great  force  from  a  reference  to  the  Scriptures. 
According  to  this  unerring  standard,  the  great  law  un- 
der which  man  is  laid  by  his  Creator  is  this ;  "  LOVE  THE 

LoED  THY  GOD  WITH  ALL  THY  HEART,  AND  THY  NEIGHBOR 

AS  THYSELF."  This  is  the  whole  compass  of  religion. 
The  love  of  God,  or  piety,  is  the  object  of  the  first 
branch  of  the  law  ;  the  love  of  mankind,  or  benevo- 
lence, is  that  of  the  other.  This  last  is  usually 
denominated  the  moral  law,  and  includes  duties  to  our- 
selves and  our  fellow-men.  Morality  is  sometimes 
considered  as  independent  of  religion,  and  we  often 
hear  people  speak  of  a  moral  man,  as  distinct  from  a 
religious  man.  But  true  morality  is  but  a  portion  of 
religion  ;  it  has  its  foundation  in  the  love  of  God,  and 
exists  only  through  that  love.  There  is  no  such 
thing,  therefore,  as  morality  without  religion — as  a 
moral  man  who  is  not  a  religious  man.  A  man  may 
observe  externally  the  rules  of  society,  from  a  selfish 
regard  to  his  own  interests,  and  thus  be  called,  in 
common  phrase,  a  moral  man ;  but  the  truly  moral 
man  is  one  who  feels  the  force  of  the  great  law — 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  165 

"  LOVE  THY  NEIGHBOR  AS  THYSELF,"  and  who  obeys  it, 
because  his  heart  approves  it,  because  it  is  a  good 
law,  and  because  it  comes  from  the  great  Lawgiver. 
It  is  obvious  that  such  motives  of  action  only  belong 
to  one  who  loves  the  Lord  his  God  with  all  his  heart, 
and  who  is  therefore  pious.  Morality  and  religion, 
accordingly,  go  together :  whatever  a  man's  pretences 
may  be,  he  is  unsound  in  both,  if  unsound  in  either. 


NATUKAL  THEOLOGY. 

IF  a  voyager  were  thrown  upon  some  distant  and 
unknown  shore,  and  should  there  discover  artificial 
edifices,  so  contrived  as  to  be  suitable  dwellings  for 
man,  he  would  infer  that  they  were  the  work  of  man. 
It  would  not  be  necessary  that  he  should  there  find 
human  beings ;  that  he  should  see  them  at  work ; 
that  they  should  tell  him  the  history  of  these  struc- 
tures. In  the  absence  of  all  this  testimony,  he  \vould 
be  just  as  sure  that  these  were  human  contrivances ; 
that  intelligent,  thinking,  devising  man  had  been 
there,  and  executed  these  works,  as  if  he  had  wit- 
nessed the  process. 

Nor  would  his  knowledge  stop  here  ;  if  these  struc- 
tures were  mere  wigwams,  he  would  conclude  that 
they  were  erected  by  savages  ;  if  they  were  of  a  more 
ingenious  and  artificial  character,  he  would  infer  that 
the  builders  were  farther  advanced  in  civilization ;  if 
they  were  elegant  and  commodious  dwellings,  he 
would  know  that  they  were  the  work  of  a  refined 
and  instructed  people. 

Thus,  by  inference  drawn  from  objects,  which  can- 
not speak,  which  have  no  lettered  inscriptions,  which 
are  mere  unconscious  wood  and  stone — the  voyager 
acquires  as  clear  and  certain  convictions, — those  which 
are  as  much  entitled  to  his  faith  and  confidenee,  as  if 


NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

they  rested  upon  the  testimony  of  a  thousand  living 
witnesses.  It  is  precisely  by  this  process  that  a  large 
share  of  the  unquestioned  history  of  mankind  is  made 
up.  History  tells  us  not  who  reared  the  pyramids  of 
Egypt ;  but  no  one  doubts  that  they  were  the  work 
of  man,  and  of  man  far  advanced  in  the  arts.  In 
Nubia,  there  are  vestiges  of  temples,  built  of  marble 
and  chiseled  with  the  skill  of  the  Grecian  sculptor ; 
history  tells  us  not  who  reared  them ;  but  we  know 
that  thinking,  contriving,  refined  man,  was  the  builder. 
There  is  no  written  record  of  the  nations  that  con- 
structed the  cities,  whose  vestiges  are  now  the  wonder 
of  the  traveller  in  Copan,  Palanque,  and  Yucatan ; 
yet,  in  the  utter  silence  of  history,  we  look  at  the 
mouldering  ruins, — shafts,  columns,  cornices,  archi- 
traves, and  statues, — and  feel  as  much  assured  that 
intelligent  human  beings  have  existed  here,  as  if  the 
story  were  inscribed  in  marble  or  brass.  Indeed,  it  is 
plain  that  this  kind  of  evidence  is  the  strongest  that 
can  be  offered  :  words  may  deceive  ;  the  pen  and  the 
tongue  may  bear  false  witness — but  works,  such  as 
those  to  which  we  refer,  cannot  lie. 

Now,  Natural  Theology  proposes  to  prove  the  exis- 
tence of  God,  and  to  discover  some  of  his  attributes,  by 
the  same  process  as  this  by  which  history  traces  the 
existence  and  character  of  men  and  races  of  men, 
whom  we  have  not  seen,  and  of  whom  we  have  no 
knowledge,  but  that  which  is  inferred  from  their 
works.  We  throw  aside,  in  this  investigation,  both 
history  and  revelation ;  and  guided  by  the  light  of 
nature  alone — by  the  contemplation  of  the  various 
natural  objects  around  us,  seek  to  discover  whence 


168  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

these  things  come,  and  what  is  the  character  of  that 
Power,  to  which  they  owe  their  existence. 

It  may  be  well  to  remark  here,  that  we  know  no- 
thing of  the  origin  of  mind  or  matter.  Our  reasoning 
upon  this  subject  runs  at  once  into  contradiction  and 
absurdity.  We  say,  before  matter  exists  it  is  nothing ; 
and  from  nothing,  nothing  can  come.  Here  is  contra- 
diction, yet  it  seems  legitimate  reasoning.  The  same 
argument  has  been  applied  to  mind,  and  with  the  like 
result.  Hence,  in  this  staggering  of  the  human  intellect, 
attempting  to  fathom  an  abyss  too  deep  for  its  faculties, 
some  men  have  referred  the  works  of  nature  to  chance, 
to  accident,  to  an  infinite  series  of  causes  and  conse- 
quences— as  if,  by  hiding  their  ideas  in  an  ambush  of 
unmeaning  words,  they  expected  to  clear  up  the  mys- 
tery. 

It  may  be  well  for  us  to  set  out  upon  our  present 
investigation  with  right  views  upon  this  point.  The 
origin  of  things  is  beyond  our  investigation.  Exist- 
ence, motion,  life,  action,  thought,  are  before  us  ;  we 
can  trace  them  from  one  point  to  another ;  but  at  last, 
when  we  inquire  as  to  the  beginning, — the  birth  of 
matter,  the  first  pulse  of  life  and  action,  the  morning 
dawn  of  thought  and  feeling — these  are  hidden  from 
our  view.  We  can  follow  the  stream  of  being  far  up, 
but  at  last  we  come  to  a  curtain,  and  behind  this,  the 
beginning  is  hidden,  as  God's  secret,  which  no  man 
can  penetrate. 

But,  shall  we  infer  that  behind  that  curtain  all  is 
dark,  negative,  fortuitous  ?  Shall  we  not  rather, 
judging  from  what  we  see  on  this  side,  believe  that 
there  is  a  power  there,  adequate  to  the  results  before 


NATTRAL   THEOLOGY.  169 

our  eyes?  If  we  find  a  stream  flowing  from  the 
mouth  of  an  impenetrable  cave,  shall  we  say  that  it 
has  no  source,  no  fountain,  no  adequate  supplies  ? 

The  common  sense  of  mankind,  the  highest  au- 
thority to  which  we  can  appeal,  has  not  reasoned  thus. 
In  all  ages,  men  have  looked  around,  and,  seeing 
order,  method,  contrivance — evidences  of  design  and 
intelligence — in  the  courses  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
and  in  the  structure  of  plants  and  animals, — have 
referred  their  origin  and  preparation  to  some  power, 
superior  to  man,  and  competent  to  achieve  the  works 
they  behold.  If  you  present  a  toy  to  a  child,  he  says, 
as  if  instinctively,  Who  made  it  ?  That  a  contrivance 
must  have  a  contriver,  is  one  of  the  first  and  most 
universal  of  ideas ;  this  is  as  plainly  true,  as  that  two 
and  two  make  four,  and  whoever  rejects  this  must 
reject  all  human  evidence,  and  deny  alike  the  exist- 
ence and  discovery  of  truth. 

Our  inquiry  then,  whether  there  be  a  God,  who  is 
the  author  of  "  light  and  life,"  is  only  an  inquiry  into 
what  mankind,  in  all  ages  and  countries,  have  affirma- 
tively determined ;  and  we  may  further  add,  that 
exactly  in  proportion  as  science  has  advanced,  and  the 
horizon  of  the  human  mind  been  enlarged,  this  con- 
clusion has  acquired  strength  and  confirmation.  When 
in  the  infancy  of  society,  this  world  was  considered 
the  centre  of  the  universe,  its  existence  was  indeed 
referred  to  God :  And  now  that  the  Astronomer  has  in- 
structed us  that  it  is  but  as  a  particle  of  dust  rising  from 
the  chariot  wheel  in  the  path  of  the  Creator — though 
we  can  go  no  further,  we  look  upon  this  truth  with 
added  confidence,  and  new  and  enlarged  views  of 
the  Author  of  all  things. 


170  NATURAL  THEOLOGY. 

PROOFS  OF  DEIT.Y  FROM  THE  VEGETABLE  KINGDOM. — 
Let  us  now  consider,  briefly,  the  argument  from  na- 
ture, in  favor  of  the  existence  of  God.  And  in  the 
first  place,  we  turn  our  attention  to  the  vegetable  king- 
dom. We  here  notice  that  the  propagation  of  trees, 
plants,  and  shrubs,  all  depend  upon  seeds.  Now  let 
us  look  and  see  the  various  ingenious  contrivances 
employed  for  the  protection  of  seeds,  from  their  begin- 
ning to  their  perfection  and  maturity.  We  begin 
with  a  stalk  of  our  common  Indian  corn.  When  it 
first  shoots  from  the  ground,  the  germ  of  the  seed  is 
carefully  sheltered  and  concealed,  in  the  twisted  and 
folded  leaves.  The  stalk  advances,  and  at  length,  a 
small  tuft  indicates  the  coming  ear.  This  increases 
by  insensible  degrees,  tender  as  an  infant,  and  as 
carefully  wrapped  in  its  swaddling  clothes,  as  is  the 
child  of  a  palace.  Care  is  taken  by  nurse  nature  that 
the  winds  of  heaven  shall  not  visit  its  infancy  too 
roughly.  While  the  kernels  are  soft  and  milky,  they 
are  covered  by  fine  garments,  more  closely  and  nicely 
fitting  the  form,  and  more  completely  excluding  both 
wind  and  rain,  than  the  most  scientific  attire  of  the 
tailor  or  the  mantua-maker.  The  process  goes  on 
and  the  kernels  are  at  last  ripe.  The  design  is  now 
accomplished :  the  seeds  are  competent  to  produce 
their  kind  ;  they  are  fit  for  bird,  beast  and  man — and 
now  the  coating  dries  up,  and  the  fruit  is  freely  offered 
to  those  who  will  come  and  take  it.  Is  all  this  matter 
of  accident,  or  design  ? 

Let  us  look  a  little  further  into  this  subject  of  seeds, 
and  observe  what  a  variety  of  contrivances  are  resorted 
to,  for  their  protection.  The  seeds  of  peas  are  en- 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  171 

closed  in  a  pod,  as  smooth  and  almost  as  tough  as 
parchment ;  and  there  is  a  very  curious  contrivance 
here,  which  seems  worthy  of  notice.  When  they  are 
very  young  and  tender,  they  are  sheltered  within  the 
flower,  and  this  is  so  shaped,  that  when  the  wind 
blows,  it  turns  its  hack,  and  the  young  pod  is  thus 
kept  safe  from  the  blast  In  some  plants,  as  in 
beans,  the  seeds  are  enclosed  in  pods,  lined  with  a 
membrane  as  soft  as  silk.  In  others,  as  in  cotton 
plants,  the  seeds  are  embedded  in  fine  wool,  and  are 
thus  as  carefully  provided  for,  as  the  children  of  the 
rich  who  sleep  on  beds  of  down !  If  we  look  to  other 
plants,  we  shall  everywhere  find  the  same  careful  ar- 
rangements for  preserving  the  seeds,  and  thus  sus- 
taining the  races  of  trees,  and  flowers,  and  plants.  In 
the  pine,  the  seed  is  defended  by  the  hard  compact 
scales  of  a  cone  :  in  the  artichoke,  it  is  barricadoed  by 
spikes  or  prickles ;  in  the  mushroom,  it  is  sheltered 
in  a  sort  of  penthouse.  Thus,  the  design  of  preserving 
the  seeds  seems  to  be  displayed  throughout  the  vege- 
table kingdom,  and  the  contrivances  by  which  it  is 
accomplished  are  ingenious  and  diversified.  Shells, 
pods,  husks,  pulps,  skins,  scales,  all  are  resorted  to,  to 
defend  the  seeds. 

Nor  are  there  contrivances,  for  defence  against  the 
weather,  alone.  Some  are  designed  to  keep  them 
from  the  birds  and  squirrels  and  other  animals,  till 
they  are  ripened,  when  they  are  opened  of  themselves. 
Thus  the  chestnut  is  enclosed  in  a  prickly  burr,  but 
when  ripe,  this  burr  parts  and  the  chestnut  falls  out. 
So  the  walnut  is  cased  in  a  bitter  rind,  but  when  ripe, 
this  opens  and  leaves  the  fruit  free. 


172  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

A  similar  design  is  exhibited  in  respect  to  all  plants. 
While  young  and  tender,  the  seeds  are  carefully  pro- 
tected. They  are  not  only  enclosed  and  defended,  but 
they  adhere  closely  and  tenaciously  to  the  parent 
stems.  But  when  ripe — when  qualified  to  perform 
their  destined  task — the  pod  or  husk,  or  shell,  or  burr, 
opens,  and  they  are  released  from  their  confinement. 
Thus,  two  great  objects  are  accomplished :  a  vast 
amount  of  food  is  provided  for  man,  and  for  the  birds 
and  beasts,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  means  are 
secured  by  which  all  the  races  of  plants  may  be  per- 
petuated. Some  of  the  seeds  fall  upon  the  ground, 
and  spring  up  at  the  root  of  the  parent  stalk  ;  some  are 
scattered  by  the  winds,  and  strew  the  distant  fields 
with  vegetation ;  some  are  carried  by  birds  to  distant 
lands  ;  and  thus  the  productions  of  the  earth  are  diver- 
sified, extended  and  increased. 

Now  if  we  consider  the  fact,  that  the  multiplied 
forms  of  vegetable  life,  all  depend  upon  seeds,  and 
notice  such  care,  ingenuity  and  contrivance,  in  order 
to  bring  them  to  maturity, — can  we  fail  to  see  in  all 
this,  clear  and  conclusive  evidence  of  an  intelligent 
mind  that  designs  and  a  skilful  hand  that  executes  ? 
But  we  must  go  one  step  further :  there  are  innumer- 
able races  of  animals, — men,  quadrupeds,  birds,  fishes, 
insects, — almost  a  hundred  thousand  species,  and 
countless  myriads  of  individuals — all  directly  or  indi- 
rectly depending  upon  the  vegetable  kingdom  for  life 
and  happiness.  Now  when  we  see  such  races  in 
existence  ;  when  we  see  them  thus  dependent  upon  the 
vegetable  kingdom,  and  when  we  behold  such  amazing 
care  and  contrivance  to  maintain  and  multiply  the 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  173 

number  and  amount  of  its  productions — do  we  not  as 
plainly  see  a  Father  taking  care  of  his  children,  by 
plan  and  design,  by  the  adapting  of  means  to  ends, 
as  if  he  stood  verily,  like  an  earthly  parent,  before  our 
eyes  ? 

How  clear,  how  satisfactory,  is  this  view  of  the 
vegetable  world ;  and  what  bewildering  doubt,  mys- 
tery and  confusion,  beset  the  mind,  if  we  refer  the 
facts  we  behold,  to  blind  accident,  or  unthinking,  un- 
knowing necessity  ?  Is  it  not  an  abuse  of  reason,  a 
loving  of  darkness  rather  than  light,  to  resist  these 
conclusions  ? 

Let  us  pause  here,  a  moment,  and  ask,  what  is 
Accident?  An  attribute,  not  an  existence  ;  a  shadow, 
not  a  substance  ;  and  when  we  can  see  by  a  thousand 
types,  the  living,  moving,  efficient  Form,  shall  we  shut 
our  eyes,  and  impute  results  to  the  shadow?  And 
what  is  Necessity  ?  A  negation  ;  not  even  a  shadow  ! 
Its  existence  is  nowhere  proved  or  even  suggested  by 
nature.  Because  the  locomotive  daily  follows  its 
track,  shall  we  infer  that  it  goes  by  necessity,  and  thus 
disprove  the  existence  and  agency  of  steam  ?  Experi- 
ence, and  common  sense — all  the  approved  guides  of 
human  thought  and  action — reject  such  bewildering 
folly,  and  where  design  is  proved,  they  teach  us  to 
believe  in  an  adequate  Designer. 

If  a  child  ask  a  question,  as  for  instance,  what 
makes  grass  grow  ?  we  may  answer,  nature — and  the 
child  will  perhaps  be  content.  Mankind  are  often 
satisfied  with  thus  thrusting  aside  a  question  they  can- 
not solve,  by  words  to  which  no  definite  meaning 
can  be  attached.  It  is  this  childish  habit  which  leads 


174  NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

many  people  into  practical  Atheism.  Instead  of  refer- 
ring the  course  of  events  to  God,  their  true  author,  they 
speak  of  them  as  the  result  of  accident,  tendency, 
necessity,  nature.  This  last,  is  the  mist  in  which 
habitual  stupidity  or  unbelief,  finds  a  shelter.  But 
what  is  Nature  ?  Surely  not  an  active,  efficient 
power,  independent  of  God. 

Nothing  can  design  and  act  that  has  not  a  power 
of  will  and  motion  within  itself.  Those  who  suppose 
Nature  can  do  anything,  can  form  and  accomplish  any 
design,  must  suppose  it  to  possess  the  power  of  motion 
and  a  mind.  If  nature  produces  plants,  it  must  pos- 
sess a  mind  of  infinite  wisdom,  and  ingenuity  and 
power ;  and  such  a  Being  is  God.  Those  who  speak 
of  nature,  as  itself  doing  what  man  with  all  his  inge- 
nuity cannot  do,  speak  of  a  Being  superior  to  man, 
and  his  proper  title  is  God.  There  is  therefore  no 
such  thing  as  nature  independent  of  God :  nature  is 
only  that  system  of  laws,  by  which  He  carries  on  his 
plans,  and  performs  his  works. 

The  earth,  with  all  its  array  of  fields,  and  plants, 
rivers  and  lakes,  is,  indeed,  sometimes  called  nature. 
The  word,  in  this  sense,  however,  only  means  the 
elements  of  earth,  air  and  water,  and  the  various  forms 
they  assume.  These  are  incapable  of  any  action  of 
themselves ;  of  themselves  they  are  mere  dead  mat- 
ter ;  all  the  energy  they  possess,  is  derived  from  some 
other  power.  A  grain  of  sand,  a  mound  of  earth,  a 
pufFof  air,  a  mass  of  water,  cannot  move,  but  by  the 
impulse  of  that  power.  If  there  were  no  God,  these 
would  remain  forever  as  they  are.  Those  who  sup- 
pose that  there  is  in  the  earth  or  the  air  or  the  water, 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  175 

a  power,  called  nature,  which  produces  plants,  which 
makes  things  grow — must  suppose  that  it  is  an  intelli- 
gent, thinking,  contriving  power ;  one  that  is  infinitely 
superior  to  man,  and  this  is  a  being  to  whom  we 
assign  the  title  of  God.  It  is  obvious,  therefore,  that 
the  attempt  to  evade  the  conclusion  to  which  we  arrive, 
from  a  view  of  the  vegetable  kingdom,  by  the  use  of 
unmeaning  words,  is  wholly  abortive,  and  that  when 
we  take  away  the  bandage  which  men  thus  put  over 
their  eyes,  the  image  of  Deity  stands  plainly  revealed 
before  them. 

A  GOD  PHOVED  FROM  A  VIEW  OF  BIRDS. — In  looking 
at  the  feathered  creation,  we  see  at  once  that  they  are 
designed  to  live  in  a  different  manner  from  quadrupeds. 
They  are  intended  to  soar  aloft  in  the  air,  to  perch  upon 
trees,  or  swim  on  the  wave.  Now  let  us  see  how  ad- 
mirably they  are  formed,  in  order  to  suit  them  to  their 
modes  of  existence.  In  the  first  place,  let  us  look  at 
the  wing.  Where,  in  the  compass  of  human  inven- 
tion, is  there  a  contrivance  equal  to  this  ?  Examine 
a  single  feather,  and  consider  if  it  be  possible,  for  the 
art  of  man  to  rival  it.  Look  then  at  the  feathers  and 
quills,  of  various  sizes,  upon  the  wing ;  and  mark  how 
skilfully  they  are  adjusted  to  each  other,  and  to  the 
whole  machine,  of  which  they  are  a  part.  Study, 
then,  the  frame  work  of  the  wing;  mark  the  bones, 
how  firm,  and  yet  how  light ;  see  how  the  numerous 
joints  are  fitted  to  each  other,  and  note  the  numerous 
pulleys  and  cords,  and  how  admirably  they  are  all 
placed,  in  order  to  work  the  engine  to  which  they 
belong. 

And  now  observe  that  wing  in  motion  ;  see  how  it 
opens  and  closes ;  how  at  once  it  cleaves  the  air,  in 


176  NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

its  forward  motion,  and  excludes  its  passage  through, 
in  beating  upward,  by  a  succession  of  impulses. 
Surely  the  mind  must  be  dull  indeed,  which  does  not 
perceive  with  intense  delight,  the  beauty  and  perfec- 
tion of  this  contrivance.  And  every  step  of  our  far- 
ther investigation,  serves  but  to  increase  our  admira- 
tion. If  we  look  at  the  general  structure  of  the  bird, 
we  do  not  find  the  bones  filled  with  marrow,  as  in  the 
land  animals,  but  they  are  hollow,  to  render  the  crea- 
ture light,  and  enable  it  to  rise  upon  the  subtle  element 
in  which  it  is  destined  to  perform  its  wonderful  evolu- 
tions. Nor  is  even  this  all :  the  form  of  the  bird,  like 
the  boat  designed  to  cleave  the  waves,  is  suited  to 
glance  like  an  arrow  through  the  air ;  and  the  tail  is 
fitted  with  all  the  mechanism  necessary  at  once  to 
operate  as  an  oar  or  a  rudder.  And  finally,  to  render 
the  plumage  smooth,  so  as  to  glide  easily  forward,  and 
to  keep  it  in  perfect  order,  the  bird  is  furnished  with 
a  fine  oil,  and  all  the  instinctive  art  necessary  to  its 
application. 

We  might  still  go  farther,  and  consider  the  particu- 
lar adaptation  of  birds  to  the  peculiar  modes  of  life 
which  they  are  destined  to  pursue  :  we  might  direct 
attention  to  the  feet  of  the  climbers — such  as  wood- 
peckers, parrots,  &c. — which  have  two  forward  and  two 
back  claws ;  to  the  feet  of  the  swimming  birds,  which 
are  webformed,  and  thus  answer  the  purpose  of  pad- 
dles ;  to  the  plumage  of  the  water  birds,  which  is  so 
compact  as  to  exclude  the  water ;  to  the  long  legs  of 
the  waders  ;  the  long  bills  and  necks  of  the  fishers  ; 
the  sharp  cutting  beaks  and  hooked  talons  of  the  birds 
of  prey;  and  we  might  direct  attention  to  the  admir- 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  177 

able  design  and  contrivance  here  displayed.  What 
perfect  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  natural  philoso- 
phy, and  of  the  mechanical  powers  is  disclosed ;  and 
what  wonderful  skill  is  evinced  in  adapting  means 
to  ends.  Who  indeed  can  look  upon  the  wing  or 
webbed  foot,  and  fail  to  see  that  he  who  made  them, 
knew  the  existence  of  the  air  and  water,  and  was 
familiar  with  their  properties  ;  who  that  studies  the 
varied  forms,  and  wonderful  endowments  of  the 
feathered  creation,  can  hesitate  to  look  up  and  say, 
"  Oh  Lord,  how  wonderful  are  thy  works  :  in  goodness 
and  wisdom  hast  thou  made  them  all?" 

We  have  not  yet  even  adverted  to  the  mode  of  pro- 
ducing birds,  by  eggs.  Let  us  reflect  upon  this,  for  a 
moment.  An  egg  consists  of  a  delicate  shell,  polished 
without  and  lined  with  a  soft,  silky  pellicle.  It  is 
filled  with  a  glutinous  matter,  the  outer  part  of  which 
is  called  the  white,  and  the  inner  part  the  yolk ;  yet 
this  fluid  is  so  wonderfully  mixed  and  consists  of  such 
elements  that  by  being  kept  warm  for  two  or  three 
weeks,  it  is  converted  into  a  living  bird,  with  claws, 
legs,  wings,  tail,  neck,  head,  bill,  and  all  the  means 
for  eating  and  digesting  its  food.  It  has  also  a  prin- 
ciple of  life,  by  which  it  moves,  breathes,  eats,  drinks, 
flies,  sings  and  produces  eggs,  which  eggs  produce 
other  birds. 

Such  is  the  wonderful  ingenuity  displayed  in  the 
construction  of  an  egg.  It  infinitely  surpasses  in  art 
and  contrivance  everything  that  man  can  do.  He  can 
make  a  watch,  but  it  cannot  breathe,  or  eat,  or  drink. 
It  has  no  principle  of  life.  When  the  spring  that 
keeps  it  in  motion,  is  expanded,  the  watch  runs  down 
L 


178  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

and  ceases  to  move.  Nor  can  one  watch  produce 
another  watch.  How  amazingly  superior  then  is  an 
egg  to  the  most  ingenious  of  man's  contrivances !  It 
produces  a  bird,  which  in  every  part  surpasses  man's 
invention.  Man  cannot  even  construct  a  single  feather, 
yet  an  egg  produces  a  bird  with  hundreds  of  feathers  ; 
and  this  bird  produces  other  eggs,  and  these  produce 
other  birds  in  endless  succession. 

OTHER  PROOFS  OF  A  DEITY. — The  adaptation  of 
fishes  to  the  element  in  which  they  dAvell,  and  the  life 
they  are  to  lead,  affords  equally  striking  proofs  of 
thought  and  intelligence  in  the  Creator.  These  in- 
habitants of  the  seas,  lakes  and  rivers  are  of  various 
sizes  from  the  whale  to  the  minnow,  and  of  forms  as 
diversified  as  the  flowers  of  the  field.  But  examine 
the  most  common  of  them  all, — the  perch  of  our  own 
ponds  for  instance, — with  which  every  school  boy  is 
familiar.  It  is  covered  with  a  tough  skin,  to  which,  a 
series  of  scales  are  nicely  fitted  and  all  of  which  are 
set  on  hinges  which  yield  to  the  motions  of  the  fish. 
What  human  ingenuity  can  match  this  contrivance  ? 
Then  look  at  the  fins — thin  as  silk,  and  spread  on 
delicate  frames  made  of  bone,  and  all  so  nicely  adjusted 
as  to  be  to  the  fish  what  wings  are  to  the  bird.  By 
means  of  these  fins,  the  fish  pushes  himself  through 
the  water  almost  as  swiftly  as  an  arrow  flies  through 
the  air,  and  these  enable  him  to  turn  hither  and  thither 
at  his  pleasure.  If  he  wishes  to  rise  or  sink  in  the 
water,  he  is  furnished  with  an  air  bladder,  which 
enables  him  to  do  so  as  easily  as  we  draw  a  breath. 

This  description  will  apply  to  many  other  fishes, 
but  while  some  are  without  scales  and  are  only  de- 


JTATUBAL   THEOLOGY.  179 

fended  by  a  slippery  skin,  others  have  the  protection 
of  shells.  Some  are  more  curious  than  others,  but 
they  all  exhibit  proofs  of  masterly  design  and  skill. 
The  little  minnow  of  an  inch  in  length,  as  well  as  the 
whale  of  eighty  feet,  surpasses  the  boldest  efforts  of 
human  genius.  One  and  all  assure  us  that  a  superior 
Being,  one  of  intelligence  and  ingenuity  infinitely 
beyond  man,  must  have  been  the  Architect  of  fishes. 

There  is  a  class  of  animals  called  reptiles,  including 
frogs,  toads,  lizards,  tortoises,  serpents,  Six,.  These 
are  divided  into  a  variety  of  species,  and  are  endowed 
with  many  different  properties.  They  are  all  interest- 
ing subjects  of  inquiry,  and  as  proving  the  existence 
of  a  superior  Being,  are  equally  entitled  to  attention. 

Let  us  contemplate  the  common  frog ;  at  first,  it  is  an 
egg,  but  after  about  twenty  days,  a  tail  peeps  out.  In 
a  short  time,  it  acquires  the  tadpole  form,  and  is  then 
called  pollywog  by  the  schoolboys.  In  three  days 
after  assuming  this  shape,  two  little  fringes  which 
serve  as  fins,  grow  out  from  beneath  the  head.  Thus 
these  creatures  move  about,  and  live  upon  pond  weed. 
When  they  are  92  days  old,  two  small  feet  begin  to 
sprout  near  the  tail,  and«  in  a  very  short  time,  the 
hinder  legs  are  formed.  In  two  days  more,  the  arms 
are  completely  produced.  After  a  little  while,  the  tail 
drops  off,  and  the  frog,  the  finest  of  all  four-legged 
swimmers,  is  complete.  Now  he  disdains  the  pond 
weed,  and  lives  upon  worms  and  insects.  What 
human  ingenuity  can  rival  this  wonderful  piece  of 
mechanism,  endowed  with  life  and  motion  and  the  art 
of  getting  a  living !  Who  but  God  could  produce  this 
humblest  and  commonest  of  reptiles  from  an  egg, 


180  NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

carry  it  through  all  its  wonderful  transformations,  and 
at  last,  bring  it  to  the  perfection  of  its  race  ? 

The  lizards  are  still  more  wonderful  than  the  frogs. 
The  crocodile,  which  inhabits  the  rivers  of  Asia  and 
Africa,  and  the  alligator  which  is  found  in  the  rivers, 
bays  and  lagoons  of  America,  belong  to  this  family. 
The  former  is  sometimes  thirty  feet  in  length,  and  the 
latter,  twenty.  These  creatures  are  destined  to  make 
the  larger  animals  their  prey,  and  they  are  wonder- 
fully fitted  for  the  life  they  are  designed  to  lead.  The 
crocodile  is  covered  with  large  scales,  from  the  shoul- 
ders to  the  extremity  of  the  tail.  These  are  of  a 
square  form,  disposed  like  parallel  girdles,  and  they 
are  so  adjusted,  as  not  to  obstruct  the  motions  of  the 
animal.  Beside  all  this,  the  creature  is  covered  over 
with  a  skinny  coat  of  armor. 

Such  are  the  defensive  equipments  of  this  formida- 
ble reptile.  He  is  also  provided  with  short,  thick  legs, 
and  is  armed  with  powerful  claws,  and  a  tail  of  extra- 
ordinary strength  and  flexibility.  This  latter  is  its 
chief  instrument  of  destruction.  -  With  this  it  has 
often  been  known  to  overturn  a  boat  or  canoe,  and 
seize  upon  its  conductor. 

Such  is  the  crocodile,  which  under  the  name  of 
leviathan  is  thus  spoken  of  in  the  forty-first  chapter 
of  Job. 

"  In  his  neck  remaineth  strength,  and  sorrow  is 
turned  into  joy  before  him. 

The  flakes  of  his  flesh  are  joined  together ;  they 
are  firm  in  themselves  ;  they  cannot  be  moved. 

His  heart  is  as  firm  as  stone,  yea,  as  hard  as  a 
piece  of  the  nether  millstone. 


NATURAL    THEOLOGY.  181 

The  sword  of  him  that  layeth  at  him  cannot  hold — 
the  spear,  the  dart,  nor  the  halcyon. 

He  esteemeth  iron  as  straw,  and  brass  as  rotten 
wood. 

The  arrow  cannot  make  him  flee ;  sling  stones  are 
turned  with  him  into  stubble. 

Darts  are  counted  as  stubble  ;  he  laugheth  at  the 
•shaking  of  a  spear. 

Sharp  stones  are  under  him ;  he  spreadeth  sharp- 
pointed  things  upon  the  mire. 

He  maketh  the  deep  to  boil  like  a  pot ;  he  maketh 
the  sea  like  a  pot  of  ointment" 

It  would  be  easy  to  extend  these  observations,  in  re- 
spect to  the  reptile  creation,  and  to  show  that  they  all 
serve  to  set  forth  the  fact  of  a  Creator.  The  humble 
and  familiar  toad,  the  creeping  tortoise,  the  sliding 
serpent,  the  changeful  chamelion — one  and  all  are 
beyond  the  utmost  stretch  of  human  invention,  and 
clearly  proclaim  a  designing,  creative  power. 

If  we  turn  our  attention  to  the  insect  creation,  the 
train  of  inferences  is  the  same.  This  great  family  of 
living  things,  includes  the  flies,  gnats,  wasps,  bees, 
butterflies,  hornets,  ants,  spiders,  &c.  They  are  di- 
vided into  many  kinds,  and  their  number  is  beyond 
human  conception.  But  let  us  take  one  of  them — 
the  common  house  fly.  Who  made  this  little  creature  ? 
Look  at  its  structure,  and  see  the  wonderful  ingenuity 
displayed  in  it ! 

In  the  first  place,  his  body  is  separated  into  two 
parts,  with  a  joint  in  the  middle.  As  he  has  no  bones, 
like  those  of  birds,  quadrupeds  and  fishes,  his  body 
consists  of  several  horny  plates  or  scales,  nicely  at- 


182  NATURAL  THEOLOGY. 

tached  to  each  other.  His  wings  are  finer  than  any 
human  fabric,  but  his  eyes  are  the  most  curious  part 
of  his  formation.  These,  when  examined  through  a 
powerful  magnifying  glass,  are  each  found  to  contain 
4000  minute  lenses.  This  is  wonderful  indeed,  but 
we  must  consider  one  thing  farther,  and  that  is  that 
the  Maker  of  the  fly  has  put  life  into  this  little  crea- 
ture by  which  the  body  can  move,  by  which  the  little 
wings  are  made  to  vibrate  so  swiftly  as  to  become  in- 
visible, and  by  which  the  4000  lenses  of  the  eye  are 
used  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  every  minute  object 
that  may  be  near.  Such  is  the  wonderful  structure  of 
the  common  house  fly ;  and  who  made  it  ?  The  struc- 
ture of  many  other  insects  is  equally  wonderful,  and 
perhaps  in  this  humble  department  of  animated  nature, 
the  proofs  of  design,  contrivance,  and  adaptation,  are 
even  more  varied  and  more  wonderful,  than  in  the 
higher  forms  of  life.  But  we  have  not  space  to  pur- 
sue this  topic  farther. 

Let  us  consider  for  a  moment  the  structure  of  the 
elephant.  In  many  respects,  the  skeleton  or  frame  of 
this  animal  resembles  that  of  other  quadrupeds.  It 
consists  of  a  series  of  bones  extending  along  the  back, 
carefully  fitted  together,  called  the  vertebrae.  To  this, 
ribs  are  attached,  and  the  bones  for  the  legs.  Upon 
this  frame-work,  the  flesh  of  the  animal  is  formed,  and 
over  the  whole  is  a  coating  of  skin.  Within  are  a 
heart  and  lungs,  and  tubes  called  arteries  and  veins, 
for  the  conveyance  of  blood.  Beside  these,  there  are 
the  various  organs  for  receiving,  conducting,  and  di- 
gesting the  food,  as  well  as  a  great  variety  of  muscles, 
veins,  and  fibres. 


NATURAL  THEOLOGY.  183 

This  description  applies  to  the  structure  of  most 
quadrupeds,  and  let  us  consider  it  a  moment,  as  a 
mere  piece  of  mechanism.  Observe  the  animal  when 
walking,  leaping,  or  running  about,  and  think  that  all 
these  motions  are  produced  by  the  contraction  of  the 
muscles,  just  as  the  sails  and  yards  of  a  ship  are 
taken  up  and  taken  down,  by  means  of  ropes.  Con- 
sider too  that  all  the  joints  in  the  body  of  the  animal, 
of  which  there  are  perhaps  a  hundred,  must  be  con- 
stantly moving,  and  think  how  smoothly  they  must 
turn  upon  each  other. 

Nor  must  we  pause  here,  for  we  have  only  considered 
the  bones  and  muscles  of  the  animal.  Look  now  at 
the  heart,  and  see  it  constantly  beating,  and  at  every 
stroke  spreading  the  blood  by  a  thousand  channels  to 
every  part  of  the  body ! 

But  let  us  consider  more  particularly  the  structure  of 
the  elephant.  When  he  is  full  grown,  he  has  two  enor- 
mous tusks,  proceeding  from  his  upper  jaw.  These 
are  necessary  to  the  animal  for  defence,  but  they  are 
so  heavy  that  he  would  be  unable  to  carry  them,  if  his 
neck  were  as  long,  in  proportion  to  his  size  as  that  of 
other  animals.  The  neck  is  accordingly  made  very 
short.  In  consequence  of  this  arrangement  the 
creature  is  unable  to  get  its  head  to  the  ground. 
To  remedy  this  defect,  it  is  provided  with  a  tube  or 
trunk  extending  from  the  nose  to  the  length  of  three 
or  four  feet. 

This  trunk  is  particularly  worthy  of  attention.  It 
consists  of  several  thousand  small  muscles,  crossing  and 
interlacing  each  other  in  the  most  ingenious  manner. 
These  muscles  are  extremely  flexible,  and  are  endowed 


184  NATURAL  THEOLOGY. 

with  the  most  exquisite  sensibility.  The  trunk  is  ter- 
minated with  an  appendage,  resembling  a  finger.  To 
the  elephant,  the  trunk  answers  all  the  purposes  of  a 
hand.  He  turns  it  this  way  and  that  way,  and  with  the 
utmost  ease,  coils  it  up,  or  stretches  it  out ;  with  this, 
he  strikes  a  blow,  seizes  upon  whatever  he  wishes  to 
carry  to  his  mouth,  sucks  up  water,  and  turns  it  down 
his  throat. 

Now,  who  can  take  into  consideration  all  these 
facts  and  not  be  struck  with  the  skilful  contrivance 
and  wonderful  power  of  execution,  in  the  Creator  of 
the  elephant  ?  What  work  of  man  can  compare  in 
ingenuity  with  the  elephant's  trunk  ?  What  human 
construction  does  not  sink  into  insignificance  when 
compared  with  the  moving  elephant  ? 

The  same  train  of  argument  may  be  derived  from  an 
examination  of  other  quadrupeds.  The  lion  shows 
skilful  contrivance  and  adaptation  to  produce  activ- 
ity united  to  power ;  the  deer  to  produce  speed ; 
the  squirrel  to  produce  agility ;  the  horse  to  produce  a 
combination  of  strength  and  swiftness — each  and  all 
show  the  same  master  workmanship,  and  lead  us  to 
the  conclusion  that  none  of  them  could  have  existed 
had  they  not  been  created  by  some  being  possessing 
the  boundless  intelligence  and  power  which  we  attribute 
to  the  Deity. 

But  there  is  still  another  proof  of  the  existence  of  the 
Deity,  perhaps  more  striking  and  more  calculated  to 
affect  the  mind  than  any  other ;  this  is  deduced  from 
a  consideration  of  our  own  structure.  Look  at  the 
hand  !  What  a  curious  piece  of  mechanism  !  It  con- 
sists of  bones  and  muscles,  and  flesh  and  skin,  and 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  185 

how  admirably  are  these  all  adapted  to  their  purpose. 
Where  can  we  find  among  human  devices  and  contri- 
vances any  thing  so  ingenious,  so  wonderful  ? 

Look  at  the  foot — how  admirably  is  this  contrived  ! 
Look  at  the  arm  :  what  piece  of  mechanism  can  com- 
pare with  it  1  But  of  all  parts  of  the  body,  the  eye  is 
perhaps  the  most  wonderful.  It  has  in  it,  a  lens,  like 
that  of  a  telescope,  through  which  the  rays  of  light 
pass ;  and  at  the  back  of  the  eye  a  picture  of  what- 
ever comes  before  the  eye,  is  formed.  This  picture 
falls  upon  a  nerve  which  lines  the  interior  of  the  eye, 
and  thus  it  is  we  see.  And  observe  how  the  eye 
itself  is  placed  in  the  head,  so  as  easily  to  turn  this  way 
and  that,  and  in  the  best  possible  position,  for  afford- 
ing a  wide  field  of  view.  And  again  let  us  consider 
the  amazing  power  and  scope  of  this  organ  of  vision, 
and  we  cannot  fail  to  be  impressed  with  the  eviden- 
ces of  a  designing  Creator  as  its  author. 

The,  same  train  of  observations  might  be  made,  and 
the  same  inferences  deduced,  from  a  survey  of  the 
mineral  masses  of  the  earth — for  geology  teaches  us 
that  amid  the  seeming  confusion  of  rocks  and  earths — 
of  land  and  water,  of  mountain  and  valley,  there  are 
the  clearest  traces  of  a  designing  power,  that  has  su- 
perintended their  construction  and  disposition. 

We  might  also  direct  attention  to  the  sun  and  the 
brotherhood  of  attendant  planets  wheeling  day  and 
night  through  space,  and  performing  the  most  intri- 
cate evolutions,  and  all,  according  to  a  settled  plan, 
and  with  undeviating  precision,  and  ask  who  swung 
these  worlds  in  the  air  ?  Who  bade  them  take  up 
their  line  of  march  and  was  obeyed?  Who  sus- 


186  NATURAL  THEOLOGY. 

tains  them  in  their  course  ?  Who  measured  out  their 
orbits  and  their  rotations — infinitely  more  complicated 
than  the  machinery  of  a  watch  or  clock ; — who  bal- 
anced them,  one  with  another,  and  fitted  them  so  ex- 
actly to  suit  the  great  centripetal  and  centrifugal  laws  ? 
Is  it  possible  to  answer  these  enquiries  but  by  refer- 
ence to  a  mighty  Being  of  thought,  intelligence  and 
design  ? 

We  might  pursue  this  inquiry  throughout  the  bound- 
less field  of  nature,  and  the  investigation  of  every  ob- 
ject, animate  or  inanimate,  would  lead  us  to  the  same 
conclusion.  No  where  can  we  find  an  existence, 
whether  in  earth,  air,  sea,  or  sky,  whose  formation  and 
creation  do  not  necessarily  imply  an  Intelligent  Au- 
ther.  What  truth,  then,  is  certified  by  such  a  cloud 
of  witnesses  as  the  existence  of  God  ?  Every  seed 
that  falls  ripened  to  the  earth — every  tree,  and  plant, 
and  flower ;  every  feather  of  the  bird ;  every  fin  of 
the  tenants  of  the  sea ;  every  form  moving  upon  the 
land  ;  every  beating  heart;  every  sprouting  plant ;  every 
glimmering  star,  testifies  before  the  tribunal  of  the 
universe,  to  this  fact.  And  can  there  be  perjury  in 
these  witnesses  ?  Has  all  nature  conspired  to  cheat 
mankind  and  to  impose  a  lie  upon  the  world  ?  Then, 
indeed,  truth  itself  is  a  chimera  and  human  reason  a 
fraud.  But  this  is  not  so— truth  is  a  reality,  and  the 
God  of  truth,  is  the  author  of  the  universe  ! 

PERSONALITY  OF  THE  DEITY. — We  have  seen  that 
amid  all  the  works  of  nature,  there  are  evidences  of 
contrivance,  design,  and  intelligence  in  their  author, 
and  this  being  we  call  God.  He  is  a  being  that 
thinks,  plans  and  executes  ;  and  therefore,  he  has  a 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  187 

separate  independent  personal  existence.  It  is  no  argu- 
ment against  this  that  men  have  not  seen  God.  He 
who  denies  the  personal  existence  of  the  Deity  on  this 
ground,  must  deny  the  existence  of  electricity,  gravi- 
tation, and  many  of  the  most  potent  elements  of  nature, 
for  they  are  invisible.  The  principle  of  gravitation  is 
ever  present  with  us  ;  we  cannot  for  a  moment  escape 
from  it.  If  we  jump  up  into  the  air,  it  pulls  us 
instantly  back  to  the  earth.  Go  where  we  may,  it  is 
within  and  around  us.  Yet  we  have  no  eye  that  ena- 
bles us  to  see  it.  It  is  an  efficient  power,  and  it  lays 
upon  us  its  imperative  influence ;  but  it  is  still  invisi- 
ble. So  it  is  with  God.  He  is  an  active  and  power- 
ful being ;  but  he  is  a  spirit,  and  our  eye  is  not  fitted 
to  perceive  and  appreciate  his  presence. 

It  is  sufficient  for  us  that  the  proofs  of  God's  exist- 
ence are  as  clear  as  they  could  be,  if  he  were  manifest 
to  our  senses.  The  visible  world  speaks  of  God 
through  the  organs  of  sight ;  the  voices  of  birds  and 
the  harmonies  of  nature  are  eloquent  of  him  to  the 
ear ;  millions  of  flowers  testify  of  him  by  their  exqui- 
site perfume.  Taste  and  touch  add  their  testimony  to 
his  wonderful  works.  Thus  the  very  senses  are 
addressed  by  all  things  around  us,  and  made  to  lend 
their  testimony  to  the  great  truth  of  God's  existence ; 
and  surely  it  is  an  abuse  of  reason  and  common 
sense  to  resist  their  unanimous  teaching. 

UNITY  OF  GOD. — It  may  be  admitted  that  the  works 
of  nature  prove  the  existence  of  some  intelligent, 
creative  power,  but  is  this  power  reposed  in  one  or 
many  gods  ?  All  the  ancient  nations  of  Europe  and 
Asia  appear  to  have  adopted  a  system  of  polytheism. 


188  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

In  ancient  Greece,  a  deity  was  supposed  to  preside 
over  every  river  and  hill  and  mountain.  Almost 
every  object  in  nature  and  almost  every  human  pas- 
sion had  its  deity.  But  over  all  these,  there  was  one 
called  Jupiter  who  was  supposed  to  be  the  supreme 
governor  of  the  universe. 

Nearly  the  same  belief  is  entertained  at  the  present 
day  throughout  a  great  part  of  Asia ;  but  a  little 
reflection  will  satisfy  us  that  there  cannot  be  a  multi- 
plicity of  Gods.  In  the  first  place,  we  ought  to  adopt 
no  belief  for  which  we  can  produce  no  evidence,  and 
there  is  none  whatever  to  prove  that  there  is  more 
than  one  Deity.  On  the  contrary,  all  nature  seems  at 
the  outset,  to  assure  us  that  there  is  but  one  God. 

This  appears  from  the  uniformity  of  plan  observable 
in  the  universe,  which  is  itself  a  system,  each  part 
depending  upon  other  parts.  One  principle  of  gravi- 
tation causes  a  stone  to  drop  towards  the  earth,  and 
the  moon  to  wheel  round  it.  One  law  of  attraction 
carries  all  the  planets  round  the  sun.  They  all  expe- 
rience the  vicissitudes  of  day  and  night,  and  the 
changes  of  the  seasons.  The  light  from  a  fixed  star 
affects  our  eyes  in  the  same  manner,  and  is  refracted 
and  reflected  according  to  the  same  laws  as  the  light 
of  a  candle.  The  velocity  of  the  light  of  the  fixed 
stars,  is  also  the  same  as  the  velocity  of  the  light  of 
the  sun,  reflected  from  the  satellites  of  Jupiter.  The 
heat  of  the  sun,  in  kind,  differs  nothing  from  the  heat 
of  a  common  fire. 

In  our  own  globe,  unity  of  design  is  still  more  man- 
ifest. New  countries  are  continually  discovered,  but 
the  old  laws  of  nature  are  always  found  in  them ;  new 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  189 

plants,  perhaps,  or  anirqals  are  found,  but  always  in 
company  with  plants  and  animals  which  we  already 
know,  and  always  possessing  the  same  general  pro- 
perties. "  Never,"  says  Paley,  "  do  we  get  among 
such  original,  or  totally  different  modes  of  existence, 
as  to  indicate  that  we  are  come  into  the  province  of  a 
different  Creator,  or  under  the  direction  of  a  different 
Will."  In  truth,. the  same  order  of  things  attends  us 
wherever  we  go.  The  elements  act  upon  one  another, 
electricity  operates,  the  tides  rise  and  fall,  the  mag- 
netic needle  takes  its  position  in  one  region  of  the 
earth  as  well  as  another.  One  atmosphere  invests  all 
parts  of  the  globe  ;  one  sun  illuminates,  and  one  moon 
exerts  its  specific  attraction  upon  all  parts. 

The  inspection  and  comparison  of  living  forms,  add 
to  this  argument,  and  examples  are  at  hand  without 
number.  Of  all  land  animals,  the  structure  is  very 
much  alike ;  the  senses  are  nearly  the  same ;  their 
natural  functions  and  passions  nearly  the  same  ;  diges- 
tion, nutrition,  circulation,  go  on  in  a  similar  manner 
in  all.  The  great  circulating  fluid  is  the  same ;  for 
no  difference  has  yet  been  discovered  in  the  proper- 
ties  of  blood,  from  whatever  animal  it  may  be  drawn. 
It  has  been  shown  that  the  blood  of  one  animal  will 
serve  for  another.  The  skeletons  of  the  larger  land 
animals  show  particular  varieties,  but  they  still  have  a 
great  general  affinity.  The  resemblance  is  somewhat 
less,  yet  sufficiently  evident  between  quadrupeds  and 
birds. 

In  fishes,  which  belong  to  another  department  of 
nature,  the  points  of  comparison  become  fewer.  But 
we  never  lose  sight  of  an  analogy  ;  we  still  meet  with 


190  NATURAL  THEOLOGY. 

a  stomach,  a  liver,  a  spine ;  with  bile  and  blood ;  with 
teeth,  with  eyes.  The  provinces  also  of  earth  and 
water,  are  connected  by  a  species  of  animals  that 
inhabit  both,  and  also,  by  a  large  tribe  of  aquatic  ani- 
mals, which  closely  resemble  the  terrestrial  in  their 
structure — we  mean  the  cetacious  tribe,  such  as  seals, 
porpoises  and  whales,  which  have  hot  blood,  respiring 
lungs,  and  other  essential  parts  like  those  of  land  ani- 
mals. This  similitude,  surely,  bespeaks  the  same 
creation  and  the  same  Creator. 

Insects  and  shellfish  appear  to  differ  from  other 
classes  of  animals  the  most  widely  of  any.  Yet  even 
here,  there  exists  a  general  relation  of  a  peculiar  kind. 
In  other  animals,  the  bones  to  which  the  muscles  are 
attached,  lie  within  the  body,  in  insects  and  shellfish, 
they  lie  on  the  outside  of  it.  The  shell  of  a  lobster 
performs  to  the  animal  the  office  of  a  bone.  The 
crust  of  an  insect  is  its  shell,  and  answers  the  like 
purpose.  The  shell  also  of  an  oyster  stands  in  the 
place  of  a  bone ;  the  muscles  being  fixed  to  it,  in  the 
same  manner,  as  in  other  animals  they  are  fixed  to 
the  bones ;  all  this,  under  wonderful  varieties,  indeed, 
confesses  an  imitation,  a  remembrance,  a  carrying  on, 
of  the  same  plan. 

We  might  add  a  most  curious  and  interesting  fact 
disclosed  by  modern  geology.  This  science  carries  us 
back  to  periods,  millions  of  years  ago,  in  which  races 
of  plants  and  animals,  now  extinct,  inhabited  the  earth  ; 
yet  here  we  find  the  same  general  system  of  organiza- 
tion, as  is  found  in  the  vegetable  and  animal  king- 
doms at  the  present  day.  Here,  then,  is  evidence  of 
the  same  plan,  upon  our  earth,  even  at  periods  too  re- 
mote for  the  imagination  to  grasp. 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  191 

We  might  deduce  the  same  arguments  from  the 
system  observable  in  the  vegetable  kingdom  ;  but 
we  have  said  enough  to  show  that  there  is  a  har- 
mony of  design  and  plan  throughout  the  universe, 
which  is  incompatible  with  the  idea  of  separate  and 
independent  Creators.  Were  there  such,  the  world 
would  exhibit  contradictions  and  inconsistencies.  One 
part  would  be  at  variance  with  another ;  one  design 
would  thwart  another ;  but  as  all  unite  harmoniously 
to  constitute  a  consistent  system,  we  may  safely  and 
certainly  conclude  that  all  created  things  are  the  result 
of  one  Mind — one  God. 

SKILL  OF  THE  CREATOR,  PROVED  FROM  THE  STRUC- 
TURE OF  ANIMALS. — In  proving  the  existence  of  God, 
we  have  already  spoken  of  many  things  which  dis- 
play wonderful  ingenuity  of  contrivance,  and  which  at 
the  same  time  that  they  prove  God's  existence,  also 
attest  his  wisdom  and  his  power.  In  every  depart- 
ment of  nature,  the  mineral,  vegetable  and  animal, 
there  are  contrivances  which  no  human  art  can  rival. 
It  has  been  before  said,  that  man  may  make  imita- 
tions, but  he  can  do  no  more. 

But  in  order  to  render  this  superior  skill  of  the  Cre- 
ator more  palpable,  let  us  examine  one  or  two  mechan- 
ical contrivances  in  the  structure  of  animals.  We 
will  select  as  one  instance  the  human  spine  or  back- 
bone. This  consists  of  twenty-four  bones,  joined  and 
compacted  together  in  the  most  wonderful  manner. 
It  is  so  contrived  that  while  it  is  firm  and  enables  the 
body  to  support  an  erect  position,  it  is  at  the  same 
time  flexible,  so  as  to  bend  in  all  directions.  Xo 
human  art  has  ever  been  able  to  contrive  a  chain,  that 


192  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

can  perform  these  double  offices.  Here  we  see  that  in 
mere  mechanical  contrivance,  the  works  of  God  defy 
competition  from  man. 

But  this  is  not  all.  The  spine  has  still  another 
office  to  perform.  In  the  centre  of  this  chain  of 
twenty-four  bones,  and  passing  through  them  all,  is  a 
tube  containing  the  spinal  nerve.  This  extends  from 
the  brain  through  the  back  and  communicates  with 
every  part  of  the  body  by  a  thousand  small  pipes 
which  have  the  name  of  nerves. 

Beside  all  this,  the  spine  is  to  be  so  adjusted  that 
the  ribs  may  be  fastened  to  it,  as  well  as  the  legs  and 
arms ;  and  finally,  to  these  the  various  muscles  which 
enable  the  limbs  and  body  to  move,  are  to  be  fas- 
tened. 

Now  suppose  that  an  ingenious  mechanic  were  to 
undertake  to  construct  an  artificial  skeleton  in  imita- 
tion of  that  which  belongs  to  man,  would  it  not  be 
impossible  for  him  to  accomplish  the  task ;  and  would 
he  not  be  compelled  to  give  it  up  in  despair  ?  Let  us 
consider,  that  we  only  ask  of  the  human  architect  an 
imitation,  and  that  even  this  is  beyond  his  ability. 
How  great  then  must  be  the  wisdom  and  power  of 
that  Superior  Architect,  who  not  only  made,  but 
designed  and  contrived  his  works,  and  not  only 
designed  and  contrived  them,  but  furnished  the  very 
materials  from  his  own  manufactory — the  bones,  the 
muscles,  the  nerves  and  the  fluids  necessary  for  his 
purpose ! 

Let  us  take  another  illustration  of  the  wisdom  and 
power  of  God,  as  displayed  in  animal  mechanism.  It 
is  the  design  of  the  Creator  that  the  blood  shall  be  dis- 


HATTEAL    THEOLOGY.  193 

tributed  throughout  the  body,  and  that  this  shall  be 
essential  to  life.  The  body  is  therefore  provided  with 
two  systems  of  blood-vessels — arteries  and  veins  ;  the 
first  to  carry  the  blood  out  from  the  heart,  and  the  lat- 
ter to  bring  it  back. 

These  tubes  are  wonderfully  contrived  and  distri- 
buted over  the  body,  and  the  blood  which  is  to  pass 
through  them,  is  furnished  by  means  equally  ingen- 
ious and  wonderful.  But  what  machinery  can  be 
devised  to  receive  the  blood  from  the  veins  and  force 
it  through  the  arteries  and  throughout  the  system? 
The  heart  is  destined  to  perform  this  work.  This  is 
a  hollow  muscle  in  the  centre  of  the  body,  surrounded 
with  spiral  fibres,  running  in  both  directions,  the  lay- 
ers crossing  and  interlacing  each  other.  By  a  con- 
traction of  these  spiral  fibres,  the  hollow  muscle  is 
compressed,  and  whatever  fluid  may  be  in  it,  is 
squeezed  out  from  the  cavity  within.  By  a  relaxation 
of  the  spiral  fibres,  the  cavities  in  the  hollow  muscle 
are  prepared  to  admit  any  fluid  that  may  be  poured 
into  it.  Into  these  cavities  the  great  trunks  or  pipes 
of  the  arteries  and  veins  are  inserted — the  one  to  carry 
out  the  blood,  and  the  other  to  return  it. 

Every  time  that  the  heart  beats,  a  contraction  of 
the  spiral  fibres  takes  place,  and  the  blood  is  sent 
through  the  arteries,  by  the  force  of  the  stroke,  as 
water  gushes  through  a  syringe ;  and  exactly  at  the 
same  time,  an  equal  proportion  is  received  from  the 
veins.  Thus,  at  every  pulse,  about  two  spoons  full 
of  blood  are  sent  out  from  the  human  heart,  through 
the  arteries,  and  the  same  quantity  is  received  from 
the  veins.  It  is  said  that  each  ventricle  of  the  heart 


194  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

will  contain  an  ounce  of  blood.  The  heart  contracts 
4000  times  in  an  hour,  from  which  it  appears  that 
4000  ounces,  or  250  pounds  of  blood,  pass  through  the 
heart  every  hour. 

The  whole  mass  of  blood  in  the  body  of  a  grown 
person  is  about  twenty-five  pounds,  so  that  a  quantity 
equal  to  the  whole  mass,  passes  through  the  heart 
twelve  times  in  an  hour,  which  is  about  once  every 
six  minutes.  Such  is  the  operation  of  the  heart  in  the 
human  body;  but  consider  what  it  must  be  in  the 
larger  animals,  as  the  elephant  or  the  whale.  In  the 
latter,  the  tube  through  which  the  blood  is  forced  into 
the  arteries,  called  the  aorta,  is  a  foot  in  diameter,  and 
ten  or  fifteen  gallons  of  blood  are  thrown  out  of  the 
heart,  at  every  stroke,  and  it  rushes  with  a  velocity 
like  that  of  water  through  the  sluice  of  a  mill.  The 
whole  idea  fills  the  mind  with  wonder,  and  we  cannot 
but  look  up  with  awe  to  that  Being  whose  works  dis- 
play such  evidence  of  wisdom  and  power. 

THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  THE  PECULIAR  ORGANIZATION 
OF  CERTAIN  ANIMALS. — Along  each  side  of  the  neck  of 
larger  quadrupeds  is  a  stiff,  strong  ligament,  which 
butchers  call  the  pax  wax.  We  often  see  it  in  a  piece 
of  roast  beef.  It  is  a  powerful  tape,  braced  from  the 
head  to  the  back,  and  its  office  is  to  support  the 
weight  of  the  head,  which  it  is  exactly  suited  to  fulfil. 
The  head  of  an  ox  is  a  heavy  weight  acting  at  the 
end  of  a  long  lever,  and  but  for  this  support,  would  be 
very  difficult  and  tedious  to  carry.  But  by  this  brace 
it  is  supported  with  ease.  No  similar  organ  is  found 
in  man,  for  his  erect  position  renders  such  a  provision 
unnecessary.  This  peculiar  organization  is  limited  to 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  195 

quadrupeds ;  and  it  shows  that  the  Creator  sees  and 
knows  and  provides  for,  with  admirable  ingenuity,  the 
wants  of  his  creatures. 

The  oil  with  which  birds  preserve  their  feathers, 
and  the  organ  which  supplies  it,  are  peculiar  provis- 
ions of  the  Deity  for  the  feathered  creation.  On  each 
side  of  the  rump  of  birds  is  observed  a  small  protu- 
berance, yielding  a  substance  resembling  butter,  which 
runs  out  when  the  bird  presses  it  with  its  bill.  With 
this  ointment  the  bird  dresses  its  coat,  as  often  as  any 
part  of  its  feathers  may  require  it.  Nothing  similar 
to  this  oil  is  found  upon  unfeathered  animals.  If  this 
provision  were  accidental  in  birds,  why  should  it  not 
also  be  found  in  beasts  ? 

The  air-bladder  of  a  fish  affords  another  striking  in- 
stance of  contrivance.  The  use  of  the  organ  is  to  sus- 
tain, and  also  to  elevate  or  depress  the  body  of  the  fish, 
in  the  water.  This  is  done  in  the  following  manner. 
When  the  bladder  contained  in  the  body  of  the  fish  is 
contracted,  the  bulk  of  the  fish  is  also  contracted,  and 
becomes  heavier  as  compared  with  the  water,  and  ac- 
cordingly, it  descends.  On  the  contrary,  when  the 
bladder  is  expanded,  the  bulk  of  the  fish  is  greater  and 
comparatively  lighter,  and  the  fish  rises.  This  power 
has  been  proved  by  observing  that  when  the  bladder  is 
burst,  the  fish  grovels  at  the  bottom ;  and  also  that 
flounders,  soles  and  skates,  which  have  no  air-bladder, 
seldom  rise  in  the  water,  and  if  they  do,  it  costs  them 
a  great  effort.  We  do  not  see  by  what  method  an 
animal,  which  lives  constantly  in  the  water,  is  able  to 
supply  a  repository  of  air,  but  the  Creator  of  fishes 
has  accomplished  this  object,  though  we  cannot  tell 
the  means. 


196  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

The  black  skimmer  of  the  seas,  is  a  kind  of  gull, 
which  gets  its  living  from  the  deep,'  in  a  most  curious 
manner.  He  has  immense  powers  of  flight,  and 
seems  to  be  capable  of  sustaining  himself  on  the  wing, 
for  hours  and  perhaps  for  days.  He  skims  along  over 
the  deep,  keeping  his  lower  jaw  or  mandible  in  the 
water,  with  which  he  occasionally  scoops  up  a  fish 
that  happens  to  come  in  his  way.  To  fit  him  for  this 
peculiar  mode  of  getting  a  livelihood,  his  under  jaw  is 
shaped  like  a  paper-cutter,  and  is  more  than  an  inch 
longer  than  the  upper  one.  When  a  fish  is  taken,  it 
is  slipped  along  toward  the  throat,  and  there  held  in 
the  bill  till  the  bird  has  time  to  devour  it.  What  a 
curious  adaptation  do  we  here  find,  of  tools  to  the 
work  that  is  to  be  done  !  This  bird  is  to  get  his  food  by 
skimming  the  seas,  and  he  has  a  peculiar  instrument  for 
the  purpose ;  and  to  accommodate  him,  a  departure 
from  the  structure  of  all  other  birds  is  adopted,  and  the 
lower  mandible,  usually  the  shortest,  is  here  made  the 
longest. 

In  the  owl,  we  observe  a  remarkable  adaptation  of 
structure  to  vocation.  This  bird  is  made  to  lead  the 
life  of  a  thief,  and  to  steal  upon  its  prey  in  the  dark- 
ness and  stillness  of  night.  His  eyes  are  there- 
fore so  constructed  that,  while  he  can  hardly  see  by 
day,  he  can  see  distinctly  at  night.  But  there  is 
another  peculiar,  yet  suitable  contrivance,  less  obvious, 
but  even  more  curious.  The  plumage  of  the  owl  is 
remarkably  soft,  full  and  downy.  Every  part  of  the 
body,  and  even  the  head  and  legs,  are  covered  with 
long,  yielding  feathers.  And  why  is  this?  So  that 
the  bird  may  winnow  the  air  on  a  silent  wing,  and 


NATURAL    THEOLOGY.  197 

approach  its  victim  not  unseen  only,  but  unheard. 
Ho\v  different  is  the  noiseless,  stealthy  flight  of  an 
owl  from  the  whistling  rush  of  a  pigeon,  or  the  whir- 
ring of  a  partridge  ;  and  how  admirably  does  this  pe- 
culiarity qualify  the  bird  to  follow  its  trade  ! 

Wilson,  the  American  ornithologist,  remarks  that 
the  females  of  most  species  of  birds  are  less  gaudily 
dressed  than  the  males ;  and  that  we  here  see  a  wise 
provision  of  the  Creator,  as  by  this  means,  the  females, 
who  are  peculiarly  destined  to  watch  over  the  young, 
are  less  likely  to  be  objects  of  pursuit  to  the  hawk  and 
the  sportsman.  Being  of  more  sober  hues,  they  are 
less  conspicuous,  and  may  more  easily  shelter  them- 
selves from  attack  amid  the  leaves  and  bushes. 

Certain  birds  have  a  particular  structure  in  the  claw, 
which  fits  them  for  their  peculiar  mode  of  life.  The 
middle  claw  of  the  heron  and  cormorant,  is  toothed 
and  notched  like  a  saw.  These  birds  are  great  fish- 
ers, and  these  notches  assist  them  in  holding  their 
slippery  prey.  The  use  and  design  of  this  is  evident. 
Some  birds  that  live  on  fish  have  these  notches  in 
their  bills,  and  for  the  same  purpose.  The  gannet,  or 
soland  goose,  has  the  edges  of  its  bill  irregularly  jag- 
ged, that  it  may  hold  its  prey  the  firmer. 

The  stomach  of  the  camel  is  well  known  to  retain 
large  quantities  of  water,  unchanged,  for  a  consider- 
able length  of  time.  This  quality  fits  it  for  living  in 
the  desert,  where  there  is  no  water,  and  where,  were 
it  not  for  this  provision,  the  animal  could  not  live.  A 
number  of  bags,  sometimes  thirty,  are  contained  in  the 
second  stomach,  which,  after  the  animal  has  drank  a 
large  quantity  of  water,  are  filled  ;  and  these  bags  are 


198  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

afterwards  squeezed  by  a  set  of  muscles  made  for  the 
purpose,  and  the  contents  carried  into  the  stomach, 
whenever  thirst  impels  the  animal  to  put  the  muscles 
in  motion. 

The  tongue  of  the  woodpecker  is  a  very  singular 
contrivance.  It  is  a  particular  instrument  for  a  par- 
ticular use ;  and  what  else  but  design  could  ever  pro- 
duce it  ?  The  woodpecker  lives  chiefly  upon  insects, 
lodged  in  the  bodies  of  decaying  trees.  For  the  pur- 
pose of  boring  in  to  wood,  it  is  furnished  with  a  straight, 
hard,  sharp  bill.  When  by  means  of  this  piercer,  it 
has  reached  the  cells  of  the  insects,  then  comes  the 
office  of  the  tongue.  This  is  three  or  four  inches 
long,  tipped  with  a  stiff,  sharp,  bony  thorn,  and  what 
is  most  remarkable,  this  tip  is  jagged  on  each  side,  like 
the  barb  of  a  hook.  The  bird,  having  exposed  the  re- 
treats of  the  insects  by  the  assistance  of  its  bill,  with  a 
motion  inconceivably  quick,  launches  this  long  tongue 
at  them,  runs  them  through  with  the  barbed  needle 
upon  the  end,  and  thus  draws  its  prey  within  its 
mouth.  If  this  be  not  mechanism,  what  is  ?  How  did 
the  tongue  get  its  barb  and  its  hard  tip  ?  They  are 
decidedly  proofs  of  mechanical  organization,  and  of 
the  skill  in  the  Creator  in  providing  for  his  creatures. 

THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  THE  PREPARATIONS  BEFORE- 
HAND FOR  THE  WANTS  OF  ANIMALS. — The  wisdom  of 
the  Creator  is  clearly  shown  in  that  foresight  by  which 
provision  is  made  for  such  wants  of  his  creatures,  as 
may  arise  from  their  peculiar  condition.  The  human 
teeth  afford  a  striking  instance  of  this.  The  infant  is 
to  live  by  milk  taken  from  its  mother,  and  it  can  take 
its  nourishment  in,  without  teeth,  much  more  con- 


NATURAL    THEOLOGY.  199 

veniently  to  itself  and  its  nurse,  than  with  them.  Ac- 
cordingly it  has  no  teeth — nor  do  they  come  till  about 
the  time  that  it  takes  other  food  that  may  require  teeth. 
We  see  the  same  careful  foresight  in  providing  that 
the  horns  of  calves  and  lambs  do  not  grow  till  they 
have  done  sucking,  as  they  would  be  in  the  way  in 
performing  that  operation. 

But  in  regard  to  the  human  teeth,  a  still  further 
prospective  contrivance  is  made,  at  the  very  beginning. 
The  jaw  of  a  grown  person  is  much  longer  than  that 
of  an  infant,  and  the  first  teeth  are  therefore  entirely 
too  small  to  fill  the  jaw  of  an  adult.  It  is  accordingly 
provided,  that  at  the  age  of  eight  or  ten  years,  the  first 
set  of  teeth  shall  be  shed,  and  larger  ones  come  in  their 
place.  And  the  preparation  for  them  is  made  at 
tne  outset,  a  row  of  teeth  being  actually  set  in  below 
the  first,  ready  to  grow  when  these  are  gone ! 

The  providing  of  milk  for  young  animals  is  another 
admirable  proof  of  the  designing  wisdom  of  the  Cre- 
ator. Milk  is  a  fluid  of  a  very  nutritious  quality,  and 
no  art  of  man  can  make  it.  As  soon  as  the  young  are 
produced,  the  milk  is  ready  for  it,  and  not  before. 
And  how  wonderful,  how  ingenious  is  the  whole  con- 
trivance by  which  young  animals  are  provided  with 
food,  in  a  manner  the  most  curious,  and  of  a  kind  the 
most  suitable ! 

The  wisdom  of  the  Creator  is  also  shown  by  the  re- 
lation which  the  structure  of  animals  bears  to  their 
mode  of  life.  The  instances  of  this  kind  are  numer- 
ous. There  is  a  curious  resemblance  between  the 
stomach  of  a  hen  and  a  corn-mill ;  the  crop  answering1 
to  the  hopper,  and  the  gizzard  to  the  stones  which 


200  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

crush  the  corn.  But  the  most  interesting  point  of  re- 
semblance is  this  :  to  prevent  too  much  corn  from  going 
into  the  stones  at  once,  a  receiver  is  placed  between 
them  and  the  hopper,  so  that  it  may  be  dribbled  out 
just  as  fast  as  is  required.  The  same  process  takes 
place  in  the  hen,  for  though  the  crop  may  be  filled,  its 
food  only  enters  the  gizzard  gradually,  and  as  fast  as 
that  is  able  to  digest  it. 

Another  instance  of  obvious  fitness  and  adaptation 
of  one  part  to  another,  is  furnished  in  birds  of  prey. 
Owls,  hawks,  eagles,  &c.,  by  their  talons  and  beaks, 
are  qualified  to  seize  and  devour  other  birds  and  quad- 
rupeds ;  and  accordingly  the  gastric  juice  in  the  stom- 
ach of  these  birds,  will  act  upon  or  digest  flesh,  but  it 
will  not  digest  seeds  or  grasses,  or  vegetables  of  any 
kind.  On  the  other  hand,  the  mouth  of  the  ox  and 
sheep  is  suited  to  the  cropping  of  herbage ;  and  ac- 
cordingly we  find  the  gastric  juices  of  their  stomachs 
will  digest  vegetable  food,  and  not  flesh  ! 

There  is  another  instance  of  striking  fitness  in  a  pro- 
vision of  nature,  which  marks  the  intelligence  of  the 
Creator,  and  that  is,  that  the  eyes  of  all  animals  are 
placed  in  front,  in  the  direction  in  which  the  legs 
move,  and  the  hands  work ;  and  therefore  where  they 
are  most  useful.  How  awkward  would  it  be  for  us. 
if  our  eyes  were  in  the- back  of  the  head  !  How  com- 
paratively useless  would  the  eyes  of  quadrupeds  be, 
if  placed  behind ! 

Nature  is  full  of  such  instances  as  these  we  have 
mentioned,  all  setting  forth  the  intelligence  and  wis- 
dom of  the  Creator ;  and  not  only  displaying  the 
marks  of  a  designing  and  intelligent  Mind,  but  intelli- 


NATURAL    THEOLOGY.  201 

gence  in  contriving  and  power  in  executing,  which 
know  no  bounds.  No  obstacle  seems  to  be  presented 
that  is  not  surmounted,  and  no  contrivance  to  accom- 
plish an  object  seems  to  be  adopted,  that  is  not,  all 
things  considered,  the  best  that  could  be  devised. 

THE  ARGTHHENT  FROM  THE  MEANS  ADOPTED  TO  COM- 
PENSATE FOR  DEFECTS  IN  ANIMAL  ORGANIZATION. — 
Another  fertile  and  interesting  source  of  evidence  of 
the  wisdom  of  God,  is  found  in  the  contrivances  re- 
sorted to  by  the  Creator,  to  compensate  his  creatures 
for  certain  defects  in  their  organization.  Thus  the 
short  neck  of  the  elephant  is  compensated  by  the  ad- 
mirable device  of  a  proboscis,  one  of  the  most  compli- 
cated and  ingenious,  but  successful  expedients  of 
nature. 

The  bat  has  a  clumsy  foot  and  leg,  but  to  compen- 
sate for  this,  he  is  supplied  with  a  hook  on  his  wing, 
by  which  he  suspends  himself  to  a  beam,  or  to  the 
sides  of  rocks,  and  in  this  way  he  usually  obtains  his 
sleep.  The  crane,  the  heron,  the  bittern,  are  destined 
to  live  upon  fish,  yet  they  cannot  swim.  To  make  up 
for  this  deficiency,  they  are  provided  with  long  legs 
for  wading,  or  long  bills  for  groping,  and  sometimes 
with  both. 

The  common  parrot  would  have  an  inconvenience 
in  the  very  hooked  shape  of  its  upper  jaw  or  mandi- 
ble, if  like  that  of  other  birds,  it  was  stationary,  for  in 
this  case  it  could  hardly  open  its  mouth  to  take  its 
food.  But  this  hook  being  wanted  by  the  parrot  to 
climb  and  suspend  itself  with,  to  remedy  the  evil  above 
mentioned,  this  upper  mandible  is  capable  of  being  ele- 
vated or  depressed  at  pleasure. 


202  NATUBAL   THEOLOGY. 

There  is  a  grub  called  the  glow-worm,  that  gives 
out  a  phosphoric  light  in  the  darkness.  Why  is  this  ? 
That  her  mate  may  find  her,  for  while  she  is  a  worm, 
he  is  a  fly ;  while  she  is  on  the  earth,  he  is  in  the  air. 
They  would  not  be  likely  to  meet,  therefore,  if  some 
extraordinary  means  of  uniting  them  was  not  resorted 
to ;  but  this  Nature  has  foreseen  and  provided  for. 

The  spider's  web  is  a  compensating  contrivance,  of 
a  very  ingenious  character.  This  creature  was  made 
to  feed  on  flies ;  yet  how  was  it  to  catch  them,  for  it 
had  no  wings  ?  This  might  seem  to  be  a  case  of  dif- 
ficulty, but  the  web  is  a  net,  and  the  spider  is  not  only 
taught  how  to  weave  it,  but  his  body  furnishes  the 
thread  !  How  ingenious,  how  wonderful,  how  multi- 
plied are  the  resources  of  the  God  of  Nature  ! 

In  many  species  of  insects,  the  eye  is  fixed,  and 
cannot  be  turned  in  its  socket.  To  supply  this  great 
defect,  the  eye  is  a  multiplying  glass,  with  a  lens  look- 
ing in  every  direction,  and  showing  every  object  that 
may  be  near.  Thus,  what  seemed  at  first  a  privation, 
by  this  curious  and  interesting  expedient,  is  made  to 
be  an  advantage,  as  an  eye  thus  constructed  seems 
better  adapted  to  the  wants  of  these  creatures  than  any 
other.  The  common  fly  has  four  thousand  lenses  in 
each  eye,  and  the  butterfly  thirty  thousand ! 

The  neck  of  the  chameleon  is  stiff",  and  cannot  be 
turned;  how  then  is  he  to  look  about  himself?  It 
would  puzzle  most  of  us  to  contrive  a  remedy  for  this 
difficulty;  but  Nature  seems  never  at  a  loss.  The 
eye-ball  stands  out  so  far  that  more  than  half  of  it  pro- 
jects from  the  head ;  and  the  muscles  operate  so  cu- 
riously, that  the  pupil  can  be  turned  in  any  direction. 


WATUBAL   THEOLOGY.  203 

Thus  the  chameleon,  who  cannot  bend  his  neck,  can 
do  with  facility  what  is  difficult  for  most  other  animals 
— he  can  look  backwards  even  without  turning  his 
body! 

If  we  were  to  look  upon  a  snail,  and  observe  that  it 
has  neither  wings  nor  feet,  it  would  seem  to  be  desti- 
tute of  the  common  advantages  bestowed  upon  crea- 
tures of  this  class.  But  its  Creator  has  made  up  its 
deficiency  in  a  very  surprising  manner.  It  is  en- 
dowed with  a  viscid  or  sticky  humor,  which  adheres 
to  the  stones,  leaves,  plants  and  fruits,  and  enables  it 
to  climb  wherever  it  desires  to  go. 

A  mussel  u  which  might  seem  to  be  at  the  mercy  of 
every  wave,  has  the  power  of  spinning  long  threads, 
by  which  it  moors  itself  to  a  rock  or  timber,  as  safely 
as  a  ship  at  anchor. 

Birds  have  no  teeth.  "WTiat  then  are  the  fowls  that 
feed  on  grain — hens,  turkeys,  ducks,  geese,  pigeons 
&c.,  to  do  ?  for  they  surely  must  have  some  means  of 
grinding  their  food.  All  these  are  supplied  by  a  pe- 
culiar and  powerful  muscle,  called  the  gizzard ;  the 
inner  coats  of  this  are  furnished  with  rough  plates, 
which  break  and  grind  the  food,  as  effectually  as  a 
coffee-mill  would  do.  Let  the  reader  reflect  upon 
this ;  no  animal  has  a  gizzard  that  has  teeth,  for  then 
it  is  not  wanted  ;  but  those  which  have  not  teeth  and 
require  grinding  machinery  for  their  food  are  supplied 
with  it !  Recollect,  too,  that  birds  of  prey  that  live  on 
flesh,  have  no  gizzard,  for  their  food  does  not  require 
to  be  ground  in  a  mill ! 

Many  animals,  such  as  worms,  are  entirely  without 
feet.  How  is  this  destitution  to  be  compensated  ?  These 


NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

creatures  are  enabled  to  creep  forward  by  means  of 
rings  strung  together  by  muscles  which  contract  and 
expand,  or  are  drawn  up  and  stretched  out  at  the  plea- 
sure of  the  animal.  Thus  the  meanest  creature  is  a 
collection  of  wonders,  and  demonstrates  as  clearly  as 
the  highest  of  Nature's  works,  the  wisdom,  power  and 
resources  of  the  Creator. 

THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  ADAPTATION  AND  RELATION 
TO  INANIMATE  NATURE. — One  of  the  first  proofs  of  this 
kind  that  strikes  us,  is  in  the  adaptation  of  the  wings 
of  birds  to  flying  in  the  air;  of  fishes  to  swimming  in 
the  water,  and  of  other  animals  to  dwell  upon  the 
earth.  What  knowledge  of  the  several  elements,  does 
this  adaptation  display,  and  what  admirable  skill  is 
shown  in  the  several  contrivances  which  fit  the  va- 
rious tribes  of  living  things  to  their  peculiar  modes 
of  life ! 

How  wonderfully  fitted  for  its  purpose,  is  the  ear  ! 
It  has  within,  a  hollow  space  over  which  is  a  tight 
membrane,  called  the  drum.  When  the  air  shakes  or 
vibrates,  this  membrane  vibrates  also,  and  communi- 
cates a  sense  of  sound  to  the  brain.  Its  use  depends 
entirely  on  the  tendency  of  the  air  to  vibration  ;  and 
its  structure  therefore  shows  that  he  who  made  the 
ear,  understood  the  philosophy  of  the  atmosphere  per- 
fectly ;  and  why  should  he  not,  for  it  is  his  work  ? 

The  organs  of  the  voice  also  show  a  complete  know- 
ledge of  the  nature  of  air ;  for  they  are  so  contrived  as 
to  produce  a  vibration  of  it,  and  thus  communicate 
sounds  to  the  ears  of  others.  Is  not  this  a  surpass- 
ingly ingenious  device  ?  You  wish  to  communicate 
ideas  to  another  person,  and  God  has  given  you  organs 


WATUBAL   THEOLOGY.  205 

by  which  these  can  be  committed  to  the  air ;  or  in 
other  words,  your  voice  has  the  power  of  producing 
such  an  infinite  variety  of  vibrations  of  the  air,  as  that 
all  your  ideas  may  be  carried  to  another  by  means  of 
this  element !  How  wonderful,  how  admirable  is  this  ! 
what  wisdom,  what  knowledge,  what  skill  and  power 
of  workmanship  does  this  display  !  what  adaptation 
of  one  part  of  the  works  of  creation  to  another ;  and 
what  consistency  of  plan,  what  unity  of  purpose,  are 
here  unfolded ! 

The  happy  proportioning  of  one  thing  to  another, 
shows  also  the  wisdom  of  the  Creator.  Man,  for  in- 
stance, is  adapted  to  the  size  and  strength  of  a  horse. 
If  men  were  giants,  they  could  not  ride  horses.  If 
men  were  either  pigmies  or  giants,  they  could  not  milk 
cows,  mow  grass,  reap  corn,  train  vines,  or  shear 
sheep,  with  anything  like  the  convenience  they  do 
now.  If  men  were  pigmies,  they  would  be  lost  in  the 
grass  and  rushes,  and  their  children  would  be  carried 
off  by  birds  of  prey.  Every  one  can  see,  that  other 
things  remaining  as  they  are,  man  would  suffer  by 
being  either  much  larger  or  much  smaller  than  he  is. 

The  wisdom  of  God  is  also  displayed  in  the  corre- 
spondence of  the  powers  and  faculties  of  animals,  with 
the  earth  they  live  in.  It  is  a  part  of  the  plan  of  the 
Creator,  that  sleep  shall  be  necessary  to  most  animals  ; 
and,  accordingly,  night  is  providedj  in  which  every- 
thing becomes  still  and  quiet,  and  adapted  to  repose. 
And  consider  that  night,  thus  essential  to  animals,  is 
produced  by  the  revolution  of  the  earth,  and  this  revo- 
lution is  but  an  obedience  to  the  attraction  which  im- 
pels the  planets  in  their  courses.  How  remote  then 


NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

is  the  cause  of  night ;  how  vast  are  the  effects  pro- 
duced by  that  cause,  for  all  the  worlds  belonging  to 
the  solar  system,  are  governed  by  it ;  and  perhaps 
millions  of  other  worlds  are  under  its  influence.  And 
yet  night,  which  thus  has  its  origin  in  the  very  foun- 
dation of  the  universe,  is  made  for  the  chicken  upon 
its  roost  and  the  child  on  its  pillow.  What  a  con- 
nexion is  here  shown,  between  the  humblest  animals 
and  the  very  stars  of  the  sky  !  How  wonderful  is  the 
adaptation  of  the  different  parts  of  God's  works  to  one 
another !  How  clear  is  the  evidence  of  one  all-design- 
ing Mind,  one  all- working  hand  in  the  universe ! 

THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  INSTINCT. — We  see  a  young 
quail  or  partridge,  in  a  few  hours  after  it  is  hatched, 
run  about  and  pick  up  seeds  and  eat  them.  It  distin- 
guishes, as  well  as  an  old  bird,  between  what  is  suit- 
able food,  and  what  is  not.  Before  it  is  two  days  old, 
it  will  immediately  hide  itself  in  the  leaves  and  bushes 
if  a  hawk  is  seen,  or  if  danger  of  any  kind  approaches. 

A  young  duck  that  has  been  hatched  by  a  hen,  and 
that  for  the  first  time  sees  the  water,  immediately  runs 
to  it,  and  launches  himself  upon  it  without  fear,  and 
with  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  art  of  swimming, 
glides  over  its  surface.  In  these  cases,  as  well  as 
many  others,  it  is  obvious  that  these  creatures  have 
something  prior  to  experience  and  independent  of  in- 
struction, and  that,  this  guides  them  into  those  .habits 
which  by  their  formation  they  are  fitted  to  follow. 
The  young  duck  can  have  no  lesson  from  the  hen, 
teaching  it  to  seek  the  water  and  to  ride  upon  its  bo- 
som, nor  can  it  have  had  any  experience  to  show  it 
that  it  is  fitted  for  such  an  exercise.  Yet  it  goes  to 


NATURAL    THEOLOGY.  207 

the  brook  as  soon  as  it  sees  it,  and  as  soon  as  it  is  on 
the  wave  it  pushes  itself  forward  with  its  paddling 
feet !  Now  this  property  of  the  duck,  which  we  see 
is  independent  of  teaching  and  experience,  is  called 
instinct.  It  seems  to  pervade  all  animated  nature,  and 
is  the  great  principle  by  which  animals  are  guided  in 
propagating  their  several  species,  and  in  obtaining  the 
means  of  subsistence.  It  is  a  curious  subject  of  in- 
quiry, and  we  shall  collect  several  instances,  in  differ- 
ent animals,  to  illustrate  it. 

The  means  resorted  to  by  insects  and  birds  to  se- 
cure ihe  hatching  of  their  eggs,  display  wonderful 
powers  of  instinct.  The  gad-fly  lays  an  egg,  which 
first  hatches  a  worm,  and  this  afterwards  becomes  a 
fly.  But  the  eggs  are  to  be  hatched  and  nourished  in 
the  intestines  of  a  horse :  how  then  are  they  to  be 
laid?  Flying  round  the  animal,  the  female  fly  cu- 
riously poises  her  body  in  the  air,  while  she  deposites 
her  eggs  on  the  hairs  of  his  skin,  and  when  the  horse 
licks  himself,  he  swallows  the  eggs.  But  the  most 
curious  part  of  the  story  is,  that  these  eggs  are  usually 
deposited  on  the  knees  and  shoulders,  and  parts  of  the 
body  that  the  horse  most  frequently  licks  ! 

The  eggs  or  spawn  of  the  salmon  and  the  shad  must 
be  deposited  near  the  sources  of  rivers.  These  fish- 
es, therefore,  leave  the  ocean,  and  with  incredible  per- 
severance proceed  up  the  streams,  leaping  over  falls 
and  shooting  up  the  cataracts.  Having,  after  proceed- 
ing hundreds  of  miles,  found  a  proper  place,  they  de- 
posite  their  eggs,  and,  leaving  them  to  the  course  of 
nature,  return  to  their  home  in  the  ocean. 

The   eggs   of  the  violet  crab,  which  lives  in  the 


208  NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

mountains  of  the  West  Indies,  are  hatched  in  the  sea. 
To  deposite  them  in  their  proper  place,  the  crab  makes 
a  fatiguing  journey  of  several  months,  deposites  its 
eggs  in  the  wave,  and  then  retracing  its  steps,  goes 
back  to  its  home  in  the  mountains. 

In  all  these  cases,  it  is  plain  that  these  creatures  act 
neither  upon  experience  nor  instruction.  The  young, 
of  these  several  species,  adopt  the  means  usually  re- 
sorted to  by  their  kind,  as  readily  as  others.  Nor  can 
they  be  guided  by  love  for  their  offspring,  for  they 
never  see  or  know  them.  It  is  obvious,  therefore, 
that  they  are  impelled  by  that  inward  monitor  which 
we  call  instinct,  and  which  impels  them  to  act  as  they 
do,  without  foreseeing  consequences.  It  is  equally 
clear,  that  birds,  in  constructing  their  nests,  are  gov- 
erned by  the  same  principles.  Canary  birds  hatched 
in  a  cage,  proceed  to  build  nests  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  wild  birds.  They  sit  upon  the  eggs  also  in 
the  same  way.  Having  had  no  experience,  and  no 
communication  with  other  birds  of  their  kind,  they 
must  be  influenced  to  act  only  as  they  do,  by  instinct. 

The  extent  of  the  power  of  instinct  is  still  more 
remarkably  displayed  by  birds  in  hatching  their  eggs. 
These  having  been  laid  by  the  female,  she  begins  to  sit 
upon  them,  sometimes,  for  a  short  space,  giving  place  to 
the  male.  This  severe  restraint  is  submitted  to  for  two 
or  three  weeks,  during  which  the  bird  is  often  wasted 
away  to  mere  skin  and  bone.  What  is  it  that  induces  the 
bird  to  do  this  ?  She  does  not,  she  cannot  know  that 
young  birds  are  to  come  from  these  eggs,  for  she  will 
sit  as  well  upon  pieces  of  chalk,  as  upon  her  own  eggs. 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY.  209 

She  is  guided  in  this  by  no  knowledge  of  what  is  to 
happen.  She  is  only  influenced  by  that  monitor 
within,  which  has  made  it  a  part  of  her  nature.  "  For 
myself,"  says  Dr.  Paley,  "  I  never  see  a  bird  sitting 
to  hatch  her  eggs,  but  I  see  an  invisible  hand,  detain- 
ing the  contented  prisoner  from  her  fields  and  her 
groves,  for  a  purpose,  as  the  event  proves,  the  most 
worthy  of  the  sacrifice,  the  most  important,  the  most 
beneficial." 

The  instinct  of  quadrupeds  is  remarkable  in  many 
things.  By  means  of  it,  the  beaver  is  taught  to  gnaw 
down  trees,  taking  care  to  have  them  fall  into  the 
water,  with  which  it  forms  the  frame  of  a  house,  and 
afterwards  covers  it  over  with  mortar,  using  his  tail  as 
a  trowel. 

But  the  lower  tribes  of  animal  existences,  perhaps 
display  the  most  remarkable  powers  of  instinct. 
Among  the  ants  we  shall  find  that  it  seems  almost  to 
rival  human  reason,  in  the  extent  of  its  operations,  and 
in  the  bees  and  spiders,  we  know  that  it  surpasses 
even  the  boasted  skill  of  man.  But  we  have  not  space 
for  farther  details  ;  and  we  close  this  topic  by  directing 
attention  to  the  amazing  proofs  of  intelligence  and 
wisdom  in  the  Creator,  who  has  devised  and  bestowed 
upon  the  unreasoning  portion  of  his  creatures,  such 
varied  and  wonderful  powers. 

GOD  AS  THE  AUTHOR  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE. — Let  us 
suppose  that  we  could  account  for  the  creation  of  the 
bodies  of  animals,  and  for  their  instincts ;  who  then 
is  the  author  of  animal  life  ?  The  bodies  of  animals 
are  composed  of  bones  and  muscles  and  flesh,  &c. ; 
these  consist  only  of  matter,  and  matter  of  itself  cannot 

N 


210  NATT7RAL   THEOLOGY. 

move.  You  place  any  piece  of  matter  on  the  ground, 
as  a  stone,  a  bone,  or  a  piece  of  flesh,  and  there  it  will 
rest  forever,  unless  something  that  has  the  power  to 
move  it,  comes  to  act  upon  it. 

Yet  an  animal  has  in  his  material  body  a  power 
which  we  call  life,  and  which  can  cause  the  muscles 
to  act,  and  compel  the  body  to  move.  This  power  is 
distinct  from  the  material  body,  but  it  causes  the  heart 
to  beat,  the  blood  to  circulate,  the  muscles  to  move,  the 
body  to  act ;  for  as  soon  as  life  leaves  the  body,  though 
its  material  form  remains  perfect,  it  ceases  to  move, 
and  is  dead.  Now  who  put  into  the  body  this  life  ? 
Who  invented,  who  constructed  and  adapted  to  the 
body,  this  mysterious  power,  that  can  exercise  such 
influence  over  mere  matter  ? 

We  might  also  inquire,  who  made  the  mind  of  man 
and  endowed  it  with  powers  to  pry  into  God's  works, 
and  even  follow  his  footsteps  into  the  remote  depths 
of  illimitable  space  ?  We  might  direct  attention  also 
to  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  ask  who  made  those 
amazing  orbs,  and  fitted  them  up  with  all  their  array 
of  light  and  heat  and  air  and  life  and  beauty  ? 

GOD  THE  SUSTAINS R  OF  ALL  THINGS. — But  even 
these  views  give  but  a  faint  exhibition  of  the  power  of 
the  Almighty.  We  must  consider  that  He  who  made 
the  violet  made  also  the  sun,  which  is  three  hundred 
and  thirty-seven  thousand  times  larger  than  our  earth  ; 
that  He  who  made  the  butterfly  dancing  in  the  breeze, 
made  the  planet  Mercury,  which  flies  three  hundred 
and  fifteen  miles  every  time  your  heartbeats  ;  that  He 
who  made  the  little  sparrow  made  the  planet  Jupiter, 
which  is  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  eighty-one 


NATT/RAL   THEOLOGY.  211 

times  as  large  as  this  earth ;  that  He  who  made  the 
squirrel  leaping  from  bough  to  bough  on  yonder  tree, 
made  the  comets  which  sweep  through  the  heavens 
with  fiery  trains,  millions  of  miles  in  length ;  that  He 
who  made  man,  built  the  ocean  and  the  land,  and 
strewed  the  vault  of  heaven  with  stars,  as  the  sea  with 
pearls ! 

And  now  let  us  contemplate  these  things  as  all  the 
work  of  one  Being ;  and  let  us  consider  that  they  are 
not  only  made  by  Him.  but  that  every  moment  they 
call  upon  Him  to  sustain  them.  Let  us  remember 
that  God  has  not  only  made  plants  and  animals,  but 
that  if  not  continued,  supported  and  carried  forward  by 
Him,  they  would  instantly  perish ;  let  us  remember 
that  but  for  Him  the  rivers  would  cease  to  flow,  the 
air  would  be  still,  the  planets  would  halt,  the  stars 
would  be  quenched  from  the  sky.  It  is  God  who 
gives  to  all,  life  and  motion.  Let  him  take  his  power 
from  them,  and  the  kingdoms  of  Nature  would  be 
shrouded  with  everlasting  forgetfulness. 

God,  then,  is  the  maker  and  sustainer  of  all  things. 
We  turn  to  the  vegetable  kingdom.  Every  leaf  and 
stem  and  fibre  is  made  by  him ;  each  blade  of  grass  is 
woven  by  His  fingers.  Day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  he 
must  be  there  to  attend  to  the  process  of  their  manu- 
facture. And  he  must  at  the  same  moment  attend  to 
every  blade  of  grass  throughout  the  world,  in  the  same 
way.  In  the  same  way,  he  must  shape  every  leaf, 
unfold  even-  flower,  and  braid  every  stalk  and  stem. 
Think  of  the  myriads  of  plants  in  a  single  field,  and 
consider  that  God  is  attending  every  moment  to  every 
one  of  these,  and  not  to  these  only,  but  to  all  others 


* 

212  NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

that  are  in  the  universe  !  To  each  of  these  he  is  every 
moment  giving  heat  and  light  and  moisture,  and  to 
each  of  these  he  is  attending,  more  carefully  than  a 
nurse  to  an  infant. 

Let  us  consider  the  insects.  There  are  forty  thou- 
sand species  of  these,  and  countless  myriads  of  each 
species.  The  air,  the  land,  the  very  depths  of  the  sea 
are  filled  with  them,  and  the  Creator  must  attend  to 
each  one  of  them  every  moment.  Where  there  is  life 
and  motion,  there  must  He  be,  to  sustain  it.  There  He 
must  be  to  mould  the  eggs,  to  endow  them  with  life,  to 
frame  all  the  nice  mechanism  of  the  young,  and  to 
preserve  that  of  the  old.  And  beside,  they  must  all 
be  endowed  with  their  several  instincts.  Every  bee 
must  be  taught  the  wonderful  art  of  making  and  stor- 
ing honey ;  every  ant  must  be  instructed  in  the 
political  economy  of  the  hill ;  each  spider  must  be 
enabled  to  spin  his  thread  of  four  thousand  strands. 

The  birds  of  the  air  claim  the  attention  of  their 
Maker.  He  must  construct  every  feather,  and  mark 
it  with  the  hues  of  its  kind ;  he  must  preside  over  the 
nice  machinery  of  every  wing — the  whole  internal 
structure  must  be  his.  Every  egg  must  derive  the 
principle  of  vitality  from  his  touch.  Think  of  the 
myriads  of  the  feathered  tribes,  that  are  scattered  over 
the  earth,  in  vale  and  meadow  and  mountain  and 
marsh,  along  the  pebbly  shore  of  the  deep — upon  the 
lonely  seaward  isles — upon  the  bosom  of  the  ocean — 
and  consider  that  every  wing  that  winnows  the  air, 
every  downy  breast  that  divides  the  wave,  must  call 
upon  God  every  moment  for  support.  Think,  too, 
that  each  and  all  of  them  are  to  be  supplied  by  Him 


* 

NATURAL    THEOLOGY.  213 

with  that  teaching  which  alone  enables  them  to  sup. 
port  existence,  and  to  perpetuate  their  several  races  ! 

And  the  myriad  fishes  of  the  sea — these  too  depend 
upon  God.  He  must  measure  and  fit  the  scales  of  the 
perch,  he  must  construct  the  delicate  bony  frame-work 
of  the  fins  and  cover  them  over  with  their  silky  film. 
The  little  minnow — nay,  the  minute  eel  of  transparent 
water — invisible  to  the  naked  eye  and  only  to  be  dis- 
cerned by  a  microscope,  must  receive  from  God  every 
bone  and  muscle  and  nerve.  And  while  he  attends  to 
these,  he  is  called  upon  to  preside  over  the  whale,  to 
measure  out  the  beatings  of  its  heart,  and  impel  the 
cataract  of  blood  through  its  mighty  veins  and  arteries ! 

And  quadrupeds,  too,  depend  upon  God.  Every 
one  of  them  must  have  his  frame  built  by  the  divine 
Architect ;  every  one  of  them  calls  upon  God  for  his 
devising  skill,  his  creative  power,  his  sustaining  care  ; 
for  while  He  watches  over  the  squirrel  of  our  forest, 
He  must  bestow  his  care  upon  the  elephant  and  rhino- 
ceros of  Asia  and  Africa  ! 

And  man  too  calls  upon  God  every  moment,  for  his 
attention  and  care.  There  are  eight  hundred  millions 
of  people  in  the  world.  In  each  there  is  a  spine  of 
twenty-four  joints,  with  other  nice  machinery ;  in 
each,  there  is  a  heart,  and  veins  and  arteries  ;  in  each, 
that  heart  is  beating  at  the  rate  of  seventy  strokes  in  a 
minute ;  in  each,  the  whole  blood  of  the  body  is 
changed  every  four  minutes  ;  and  all  this  is  the  work 
of  One  God. 

And  let  us  remember  that  while  every  blade  of 
grass,  every  insect,  every  fruit,  every  quadruped,  every 
living  being  throughout  the  universe,  is  receiving  the 


p 

.  -  * 

214  NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

care  of  the  Almighty,  He  is  heaving  the  planets  along 
in  their  courses,  and  turning  the  mighty  crank  which 
keeps  the  whirling  spheres  in  motion.  Remember  too 
that  in  each  of  these  worlds  there  are  probably  races 
of  beings  like  those  on  earth,  claiming  the  care  of  their 
Creator ! 

BENEVOLENCE  OF  THE  DEITY. — If  God,  then,  is  the 
creator  and  sustainer  of  all  things — and  if  such  is  His 
wisdom  and  power,  as  proved  by  his  works — it  be- 
comes a  matter  of  the  deepest  interest  to  inquire  into 
his  disposition,  with  a  view  to  discover  whether  he  is 
a  kind  and  benevolent  being,  or  a  cruel  and  malignant 
one. 

And  now  let  us  consider  how  we  form  an  opinion 
of  a  person.  Is  it  not  by  his  conduct  ?  If  we  find  one 
who  is  trying  to  make  all  around  him  happy,  we  call 
him  kind  and  benevolent.  If  we  see  one  who  takes 
pleasure  in  making  others  miserable,  in  injuring  their 
bodies  or  wounding  their  feelings,  we  say  he  is  cruel 
and  malevolent.  It  is  in  the  same  way  we  must  form 
our  opinion  of  God,  by  his  works. 

Let  us  look  abroad  and  see  whether  the  creatures 
God  has  made  be  happy  or  not.  And  here  we  are  to 
take  into  consideration  only  the  things  that  feel,  for 
earth,  stones  and  plants,  are  mere  matter,  and  are 
neither  happy  nor  miserable.  And  what  do  we  see 
among  the  multitude  of  animated  and  sentient  beings 
around  us  ?  "  The  air,  the  earth,  the  water,"  says 
Paley,  "  teem  with  delighted  existence.  In  a  spring 
noon,  or  a  summer  evening,  on  whichever  side  I  turn 
my  eyes,  myriads  of  happy  beings  crowd  upon  my 
view.  The  insect  youth  are  on  the  wing.  Swarms 


HATUBAL   THEOLOGY.  215 

of  new-bora  flies  are  trying  their  pinions  in  the  air. 
Their  sportive  motions,  their  wanton  mazes,  their  gra- 
tuitous activity,  their  continual  change  of  place  with- 
out use  or  purpose,  testify  their  joy,  and  the  exulta- 
tion which  they  feel  in  their  lately  discovered  facul- 
ties. A  bee  amongst  the  flowers  in  spring  is  one  of 
the  most  cheerful  objects  that  can  be  looked  upon. 
Its  life  appears  to  be  all  enjoyment,  so  busy  and  so 
pleased ;  yet  it  is  only  a  specimen  of  insect  Hfe,  with 
which,  by  reason  of  the  animal  being  half  domesti- 
cated, we  happen  to  be  better  acquainted  than  we  are 
with  that  of  others.  The  whole  winged  insect  tribe, 
it  is  probable,  are  equally  intent  upon  their  proper 
employments,  and,  under  every  variety  of  constitution, 
gratified,  and  perhaps  equally  gratified  by  the  offices 
which  the  Author  of  their  nature  has  assigned  to 
them. 

"  But  the  atmosphere  is  not  the  only  scene  for 
enjoyment  for  the  insect  race.  Plants  are  covered 
with  insects  called  aphides,  greedily  sucking  their 
juices,  and  constantly,  as  it  should  seem,  in  the  act  of 
sucking.  It  cannot  be  doubted  but  that  this  is  a  state 
of  gratification.  What  else  should  fix  them  so  close 
to  the  operation  and  so  long  ?  Other  species  are  run- 
ning about  with  an  alacrity  in  their  motion  which  car- 
ries with  it  every  mark  of  pleasure.  Large  patches 
of  ground  are  sometimes  covered  with  these  brisk  and 
sprightly  natures. 

"  If  we  look  to  what  the  waters  produce,  shoals  of 
the  fry  of  fish  frequent  the  margins  of  rivers,  of  lakes, 
and  of  the  sea  itself.  These  are  so  happy  that  they 
know  not  what  to  do  with  themselves.  Their  atti- 


NATURAL   THEOLOGY. 

tudes,  their  vivacity,  their  leaps  out  of  the  water, 
which  I  have  noticed  a  thousand  times  with  equal 
attention  and  amusement,  all  conduce  to  show  their 
excess  of  spirits,  and  are  simply  the  effects  of  that 
excess. 

"  Walking  by  the  sea-side  in  a  calm  evening,  upon 
a  sandy  shore,  and  with  an  ebbing  tide,  I  have  fre- 
quently remarked  the  appearance  of  a  dark  cloud,  or 
rather  very  thick  mist,  hanging  over  the  edge  of  the 
water  to  the  height  perhaps  of  half  a  yard,  and  of  the 
breadth  of  two  or  three  yards,  stretching  along  the 
coast,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  always  retir- 
ing with  the  water.  When  this  cloud  came  to  be 
examined,  it  proved  to  be  nothing  else  than  so  much 
space  filled  with  young  shrimps,  in  the  act  of  bound- 
ing into  the  air,  from  the  shallow  margin  of  the  water, 
or  from  the  wet  sand.  If  any  motion  of  a  mute  ani- 
mal could  express  delight,  it  was  this ;  if  they  had 
meant  to  make  signs  of  their  happiness,  they  could  not 
have  done  it  more  intelligibly.  Suppose,  then,  what 
I  have  no  doubt  of,  each  individual  of  this  number  to 
be  in  a  state  of  actual  enjoyment,  what  a  sum  collec- 
tively, of  gratification  and  pleasure  have  we  here 
before  our  view. 

"  The  young  of  all  animals  appear  to  me  to  receive 
pleasure  simply  from  the  exercise  of  their  limbs  and 
bodily  faculties,  without  reference  to  any  end  to  be 
obtained,  or  any  use  to  be  answered  by  the  exertion. 
A  child,  without  knowing  anything  of  the  use  of  lan- 
guage, is  in  a  high  degree  delighted  with  being  able 
to  speak.  His  incessant  repetition  of  the  few  articu- 
late sounds,  or  perhaps  of  the  single  word  he  has  learnt 
to  pronounce,  proves  this  point  clearly. 


NATURAL    THEOLOGY.  217 

"  Nor  is  it  less  pleased  with  its  first  successful 
endeavors  to  walk,  or  rather  run,  although  entirely 
ignorant  of  the  importance  of  the  attainment  to  its 
future  life,  and  even  without  applying  it  to  any  pres- 
ent purpose.  A  child  is  delighted  with  speaking 
without  having  anything  to  say ;  and  with  walking, 
without  knowing  where  to  go.  And  prior  to  both 
these,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the  waking  hours 
of  infancy  are  agreeably  taken  up  with  the  exercise  of 
vision,  or  perhaps,  more  properly  speaking,  with 
learning  to  see. 

"  But  it  is  not  for  youth  alone  .th^t  the  Great  Parent 
of  creation  has  provided.  Happiness  is  found  with  the 
purring  cat  no  less  than  with  the  playful  kitten ;  in 
the  arm-chair  of  dozing  age,  as  well  as  in  either  the 
sprightliness  of  the  dance,  or  the  animation  of  the 
chase." 

If  then  the  creatures  God  has  made  are  happy,  let 
us  consider  the  extent  of  that  goodness,  as  set  forth  by 
considering  the  extent  of  the  animal  creation.  We 
must  not  now  confine  our  attention  to  man,  but  we 
must  take  into  view  the  entire  inhabitants  of  the 
globe. 

"  Every  part  of  the  world  is  filled  with  living  things. 
There  are  extensive  marshes,  impenetrable  forests, 
deep  caverns,  and  the  more  elevated  parts  of  lofty 
mountains,  where  human  feet  have  never  trod.  There 
is  a  vast  body  of  water  which  covers  more  than  two 
thirds  of  the  surface  of  the  globe,  and  the  greater  part 
of  the  atmosphere  which  surrounds  the  earth,  which 
men  cannot  occupy  as  permanent  abodes ;  yet  these 
regions  of  our  world  are  not  left  destitute  of  inhabi- 


218  NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

tants.  Numerous  tribes  of  animals  range  through  the 
uncultivated  deserts,  and  find  ample  accommodation, 
suited  to  their  nature,  in  rocks  and  mountains,  in  dens 
and  caves  of  the  earth. 

"  The  regions  of  the  air  are  filled  with  winged 
creatures  of  every  kind,  from  the  ostrich  and  the  eagle 
to  the  numerous  tribes  of  flying  insects  almost  invisi- 
ble to  the  unassisted  eye.  The  ocean  teems  with 
myriads  of  inhabitants  which  no  man  can  number,  of 
every  form  and  size,  from  the  mighty  whale  to  the 
numerous  tribes  of  medusa,  of  which  several  thou- 
sands of  billions  are  contained  in  one  cubical  mile  of 
water.  Every  sea,  lake  and  river  is  peopled  with 
inhabitants ;  every  mountain  and  marsh,  -every  wil- 
derness and  wood  is  plentifully  stocked  with  birds  and 
beasts  and  numerous  species  of  insects,  all  of  which 
find  ample  accommodation,  and  everything  necessary 
for  their  comfort  and  subsistence. 

"  In  short,  every  part  of  matter  appears  to  be  peo- 
pled ;  almost  every  green  leaf  and  every  particle  of 
dust  has  its  peculiar  inhabitants.  Not  only  are  the 
larger  parts  of  nature  occupied  with  living  beings,  but 
even  the  most  minute  portions  of  matter  teem  with 
animated  existence.  Every  plant  and  shrub,  and 
almost  every  drop  of  water,  contains  its  respective 
inhabitants.  Their  number,  in  some  instances,  is  so 
great,  and  their  minuteness  so  astonishing,  that  thou- 
sands of  them  are  contained  within  a  space  not  larger 
than  a  grain  of  sand.  In  some  small  pools,  covered 
with  a  greenish  scum,  of  only  a  few  yards  in  extent, 
there  are  more  living  creatures  than  there  are  human 
beings  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 


WATUKAL   THEOLOGT.  219 

u  Multitudes  of  animals  beings  are  found  in  situa- 
tions and  circumstances  where  we  never  should  have 
expected  to  perceive  the  principle  of  life.  The  juices 
of  animals  and  plants,  corrupted  matter,  smoke,  dry 
wood,  the  bark  and  roots  of  trees,  the  bodies  of  other 
animals,  the  dirty  puddle,  and  even  the  hardes^stones 
and  rocks,  serve  to  lodge,  and  in  some  measure  to  feed 
numerous  tribes  of  living  beings.  The  number  of 
such  creatures  exceeds  all  human  calculation  and  con- 
ception. There  may  be  reckoned  more  than  a  hun- 
dred thousand  species  of  animated  beings ;  many  of 
these  several  species  containing  individuals  to  the 
amount  of  several  hundreds  of  times  the  number  of  the 
human  inhabitants  of  our  globe.  It  is  supposed  by 
some,  that  the  tremulous  motion  observed  in  the  air 
during  summer,  may  be  produced  by  millions  of 
insects  swarming  in  the  atmosphere ;  and  it  has  been 
found  that  the  light  which  is  seen  on  the  surface  of 
the  ocean  during  the  nights  of  summer  is  owing  to  an 
innumerable  multitude  of  small  luminous  worms  or 
insects  sporting  in  the  water  ! " 

Such  is  the  amazing  extent  and  diversity  of  the 
animal  creation  of  this  earth ;  it  is  a  subject  which 
exceeds  the  utmost  stretch  of  imagination.  Yet  these 
thing's  are  all  created  for  enjoyment,  and  they  fulfil 
the  design  of  their  Creator.  And  we  must  remember 
that  in  this  hasty  sketch,  we  have  only  entered  upon 
the  threshold  of  creation  ;  and  that  we  have  no  reason 
to  doubt  that  the  myriad  worlds  which  fill  the  depths 
of  space,  teem  with  similar  forms  of  life,  and  present 
to  the  gaze  of  the  Omniscient,  the  same  aspect  of 
happiness. 


CHRISTIANITY. 

INTRODUCTION — MAN  AN  IMMORTAL  AND  MORAL 
BEING. — By  investigating  the  works  of  nature,  we  find 
that  everything  seems  adapted  to  fulfil  the  design  of 
the  Creator.  The  bird  is  made  to  fly  through  the  air, 
and  accordingly  it  has  wings,  admirably  contrived  for 
the  purpose.  The  fish  is  made  to  live  in  the  water, 
and  accordingly  it  has  fins,  and  all  the  other  con- 
trivances suited  to  its  destination. 

We  perceive  the  same  adaptation  and  provision 
throughout  the  whole  range  of  nature  ;  and  how  is  it 
with  man  ?  He  is  a  being  of  a  higher  order,  and  is 
of  course  made  for  a  higher  destiny.  He  has  a  mind, 
which  is  a  thinking  power.  Man  not  only  eats, 
drinks,  sleeps  and  feels,  as  animals  do,  but  he  brings 
many  ideas  together,  and  reasons  upon  them,  as  ani- 
mals do  not.* 

This  reasoning  part  of  man  is  evidently  the  princi- 
pal part  of  his  nature,  for  the  body  is  but  little  more 
than  the  instrument  of  the  mind.  Man,  then,  is  an 
intellectual  being,  as  the  bird  is  a  flying  one,  or  the 
fish  a  swimming  one ;  and  as  we  see  that  these  are 
supplied  with  everything  necessary  to  the  ends  they 

*  There  is  no  doubt  that  animals  reason  to  some  extent,  but 
reason  is  not  the  leading,  controlling  faculty  as  in  man. 


THE    BIBLE.  221 

are  designed  to  fulfil,  we  may  reasonably  suppose, 
from  analogy,  that  man,  too,  is  provided  with  all  that 
is  needed  to  enable  him  to  fulfil  his  destiny  as  an  in- 
tellectual being. 

Now,  one  of  the  chief  traits  in  man  is  a  desire  of 
happiness.  This  seems  to  lie  at  the  very  foundation 
of  his  character.  He  always  acts  upon  it.  He  never 
for  a  moment  forgets  it.  It  is  as  much  fixed  in  his 
nature,  as  attraction  or  gravitation  in  matter. 

The  desire  of  happiness  reaches  to  immortality.  It 
is  one  of  the  great  distinctions  between  man  and  ani- 
mals, that  the  former  looks  forward  to  futurity ;  the 
latter,  never.  Anticipation  is  one  of  the  leading  char- 
acteristics of  man,  but  it  dwells  not  in  animals :  it  is  a 
faculty  that  belongs  alone  to  mind.  And  man,  of 
course,  not  only  wishes  for  happiness,  but  for  happi- 
ness forever.  The  idea  that  his  soul  shall  be  annihi- 
lated— shall  die,  and  cease  to  think  and  feel,  is  full  of 
horror. 

And  man  not  only  wishes  to  continue  to  exist,  to 
think  and  to  act,  but  while  he  knows  that  the  body 
will  die,  he  has  a  presentiment,  almost  amounting  to 
assurance,  that  his  soul  will  live.  He  seems  to  feel 
within,  the  wing  of  a  spirit  that  will  fly  to  another 
world,  when  his  limbs  shall  sink  into  the  grave. 

Now  if  you  approach  a  young  bird  in  his  nest  upon 
a  tree,  when  he  is  nearly  ready  to  fly,  he  will  leap 
from  the  nest,  spread  his  wings,  and  throw  himself 
upon  the  air ;  and  though  he  never  tried  his  wings 
before,  he  will  fly  with  considerable  success.  It  is  in- 
stinct that  tells  this  bird  he  was  made  to  fly.  and  as- 
sures him  that  he  has  a  wing  to  fulfil  his  destiny  ;  and 


222  THE    BIBLE. 

if  it  be  not  instinct,  it  cannot  be  an  inferior  principle 
that  tells  man  he  has  an  immortal  soul.  It  is,  in  point 
of  fact,  an  almost  universal  belief,  among  all  nations, 
that  the  spirit  of  man  will  still  live,  when  the  body  is 
dead. 

Is  man  then  made  with  a  desire  for  immortality — a 
confidence  in  a  future  state — to  be  disappointed  ?  Has 
God  made  man  a  thinking  being — one  that  desires  hap- 
piness and  continued  existence  from  the  very  neces- 
sity of  his  nature,  and  made  him  so  that  he  expects 
such  existence,  only  that  he  may  lie  down  and  die  with 
the  brutes  that  perish  ?  If  God  has  done  this,  then  He 
has  not  acted  in  that  good  faith  toward  man,  which  He 
has  shown  to  His  other  creatures.  For,  having  made 
the  bird  to  soar  aloft  in  the  sky,  God  furnished  it  with 
the  wings  suited  to  His  design ;  intending  the  fish  to 
occupy  the  water,  He  supplied  it  with  paddles  fitted  for 
its  element ;  having  made  man  to  hope  for  immor- 
tality, and  to  expect  immortality,  if  He  destroys  his 
spirit,  and  makes  a  mockery  of  both  hope  and  expect- 
ation, He  has  acted  with  an  inconsistency  not  to  be 
traced  in  any  part  of  His  conduct  to  the  mere  animal 
tribes. 

It  is  true  that,  with  all  our  study,  we  cannot  pretend 
fully  to  understand  the  designs  of  the  Creator,  even  in 
the  works  of  nature  which  come  under  our  observation. 
But  there  are  so  many  instances  in  which  we  see  con- 
trivances answering  good  and  useful  purposes,  that 
whenever  we  remark  any  peculiarity  of  structure,  or 
any  peculiar  faculty,  we  justly  infer  that  it  is  meant 
for  some  good  end,  which  it  is  fitted  to  accomplish.  If, 
then,  man's  spirit  is  not  immortal,  to  what  good  end, 


THE   BIBLE.  223 

for  what  good  and  useful  purpose,  is  this  principle  of 
his  nature,  running  through  all  races  and  every  age, 
and  leading  him  to  feel  assured  of  surviving  the  grave 
of  the  body  ?  If  man  is  to  perish  in  the  tomb,  to 
what  end  has  nature  inculcated  this  universal  false- 
hood upon  man  ?  Can  we  doubt  that  this  general  be- 
lief in  a  future  state,  corresponds  to  the  truth  ;  and 
that  it  is  designed  to  elevate  the  mind,  to  make  it  tri- 
umph over  the  body,  and  qualify  it  to  enter  upon  its 
destined  immortality? 

There  is  another  principle  in  man,  and  which 
appears  to  be  as  extensive  as  the  race.  It  is  a  feeling 
of  obligation  to  do  what  is  right.  There  are  few  per- 
sons, even  among  the  most  degraded  savage  tribes, 
in  whom  this  feeling  cannot  be  traced.  If  an  individ- 
ual has  done  wrong,  there  is  something  within  which 
upbraids  him  for  it — something  which  seems  to  sit  in 
judgment  upon  his  conduct,  and  bring  in  a  verdict  of 
guilty. 

This  inward  monitor  is  called  conscience,  and  it 
distinguishes  man  from  the  mere  animal  creation. 
While  animals  are  only  governed  by  their  interests, 
by  their  desires  and  appetites,  man  is  made  capable 
of  acting  from  a  sense  of  duty,  and  from  a  regard  to 
the  good  of  his  fellow-men.  He  is  made  the  subject 
of  moral  government.  He  can  appreciate  truth,  kind- 
ness, charity,  justice,  candor,  patience,  benevolence, 
and  other  virtues  ;  and  he  can  perceive  the  deformity 
of  falsehood  and  other  vices. 

Man,  then,  is  an  immortal  being,  and  a  moral  being. 
There  is  something  within  his  very  nature  which  tells 
him  to  expect  an  existence  beyond  this  world.  He  is 


THE    BIBLE. 

so  constituted  as  necessarily  to  desire  happiness,  and 
a  voice  within  assures  him  that  happiness  depends 
upon  his  conduct.  Now,  as  we  observe  that  God  has 
made  provision  suited  to  the  various  capacities  of  his 
other  creatures  and  the  lives  they  are  destined  to  lead, 
might  we  not  expect  that  He  would  give  to  man  some 
revelation  of  his  will,  suited  to  his  character  as  an 
immortal  and  moral  being — something  beyond  the 
mere  light  of  nature,  to  give  assurance  to  his  hopes  of 
immortality,  to  make  plain  the  path  of  life  ;  to  unfold 
the  character  of  God,  and  point  out  the  duty  and  des- 
tiny of  man  ? 

I  have  before  said  that  the  young  bird  feels  that  he 
is  destined  to  fly,  and  that  before  he  has  ever  tried  to 
fly,  he  throws  himself  upon  the  air,  and  finds  that  he 
has  a  wing  to  support  himself  with.  Instinct  tells  him 
that  he  is  made  to  fly,  and  the  fact  conforms  to  the 
teaching  of  instinct.  The  young  duck  that  has  never 
tried  the  water,  rushes  into  it  without  fear,  for  instinct 
tells  him  that  he  was  made  to  swim,  and  accordingly 
he  finds  that  he  floats  on  the  surface,  and  that  he  is 
provided  with  paddles  to  push  himself  along.  Here, 
again,  instinct  is  the  voice  of  truth.  The  philosopher 
Galen  once  took  a  young  kid,  and  before  it  had  tasted 
any  food  brought  it  into  a  room  where  there  were 
many  vessels,  some  filled  with  milk,  some  with  water, 
some  with  various  other  liquors,  and  some  with  grain 
and  fruit.  After  a  while  the  kid  had  strength  enough 
to  get  upon  its  feet ;  and  it  was  with  sentiments  of 
strong  admiration  that  the  spectators  saw  it  approach 
the  liquors,  grain  and  fruit  placed  around  the  room, 
and  having  smelt  all  of  them,  at  last  begin  to  sup  the 


THE    BIBLE. 


225 


milk !  Here  instinct  told  the  kid  that  he  was  made 
to  eat  milk ;  that  milk  was  his  proper  food  ;  and  in- 
stinct did  not  lie.  Instinct  bids  the  migratory  birds  set 
forth  upon  long  voyages  in  the  air,  often  stretching 
across  portions  of  the  sea,  assuring  them  that,  without 
chart  or  compass,  they  shall  go  in  safety  and  find  a 
favored  land  ;  and  instinct  tells  them  the  truth.  Such 
is  the  wonderful  revelation  of  God  to  birds. 

Some  principle  similar  to  this  teaches  man  that  he 
is  immortal,  and  the  subject  of  moral  government,  and 
may  we  not  feel  sure  that  the  fact  conforms  to  this  in- 
stinct? The  human  race,  from  the  earliest  ages  to 
the  present  day,  have  been  impressed  with  a  belief  in 
the  immortality  and  responsibility  of  man.  If  this 
impression  fe  false,  then,  as  before  remarked,  God  has 
made  man  with  an  inward  teacher  that  whispers  false- 
hood to  him.  He  has  made  the  whole  race  and  im- 
planted in  them  a  false  instinct.  He  has  placed 
within  them  a  principle  which  does  not  conform  to 
truth  and  fact.  He  has  therefore  dealt  with  man  as  He 
has  not  dealt  with  any  other  of  his  works  ;  for  we  can- 
not find,  throughout  the  whole  range  of  creation, 
another  instance  in  which  universal  instinct  teaches 
universal  falsehood.  We  may  conclude,  therefore, 
that  this  general  impression  of  mankind  as  to  the  im- 
mortality and  responsibility  of  the  human  race,  is 
founded  upon  immutable  truth ;  for  has  God  been  true 
to  the  birds,  and  all  his  other  creatures,  and  false  to 
man  ' 

Having  then  made  man  an  immortal  and  moral 
being,  might  we  not  expect  that  he  would  support  his 
hopes  and  expectations,  as  such,  by  clear  and  distinct 


THE  BIBLE. 

revelation  ?  Without  such  a  provision,  would  it  not 
seem  that  something  was  wanting ;  that  there  was  an 
incompleteness  in  the  provisions  of  Providence  for 
man,  at  variance  with  that  general  care  by  which  the 
Creator  has  provided  for  the  wants  of  all  other  living 
things  ?  As  the  animals  without  instinct  would  need 
something  to  enable  theni  to  fulfil  their  destiny,  so, 
without  a  revelation,  would  not  man  be  deficient  in 
something  essential  to  an  immortal  and  moral  being  ? 

God,  then,  has  granted  a  revelation  to  insects,  to 
birds,  to  fishes,  to  quadrupeds.  And  this  revelation  is 
often  most  wonderful,  for  it  gives  the  uninstructed  in- 
sect the  use  of  knowledge  which  human  reason  finds 
out  with  labor  and  difficulty  ;  it  bestows,  at  once,  upon 
the  feathered  voyagers  the  geographical  results  of  the 
mariner's  compass  and  the  discoveries  of  Columbus  ! 
All  the  knowledge  they  ask  for,  is  given  to  the  un- 
reasoning brutes.  And  man,  who  looks  up  to  Heav- 
en with  a  thousand  anxious  inquiries — is  there  no  an- 
swer to  these  ?  Is  man  the  only  creature  that  walks 
the  earth  in  mystery  ?  Is  man  the  only  living  thing 
that  asks  for  revelation,  and  cannot  find  an  ear  to  an- 
swer his  request  ?  Surely  man  has  reason  to  expect 
a  revelation,  which  may  dispel  the  fears,  and  doubts, 
and  anxieties,  to  which  nature,  alone,  would  leave 
him. 

From  this  view  of  the  subject,  it  would  seem  highly 
probable,  beforehand,  that  God  would  give  some  reve- 
lation of  his  will  to  man,  other  than  the  mere  light  of 
nature.  Let  us  now  consider  whether  he  has  done 
this. 

It  may  be  proper  to  remark,  at  the  outset,  that  we 


THB  BIBLE.  227 

enter  upon  this  inquiry  with  a  strong  probability 
on  the  affirmative  side  of  the  question.  In  looking 
over  the  world,  we  shall  find  several  works  claiming 
to  be  revelations  from  God.  One  of  them  is  the  Ko- 
ran or  Alcoran,  which  was  written  by  Mahomet,  an 
Arabian,  about  1200  years  ago.  This  person  pretend- 
ed to  be  a  prophet,  and  to  have  communication  with 
Heaven.  The  Koran  consists  of  what  he  pretended 
to  have  been  instructed  by  God  to  write. 

The  Arabians  were  an  ignorant  and  superstitious 
people,  and  Mahomet  easily  persuaded  them  that  he 
was,  in  fact,  a  prophet — that  he  had  intercourse  with 
Heaven — that  he  was  a  man  of  exalted  and  sacred 
character,  and  that  his  pretended  revelations  were 
true. 

Mahomet  soon  found  himself  surrounded  with  fol- 
lowers, and  he  determined  to  use  the  power  thus 
placed  in  his  hands  for  his  own  selfish  purposes.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  raised  an  army  from  among  his  disci- 
ples, and  made  war  upon  those  who  denied  his  preten- 
sions. Being  a  bold  and  skilful  man,  he  soon  made 
his  name  feared  by  all  around  him ;  and  thus  the 
sword  compelled  men  to  submit  to  the  lofty  claims  of 
the  pretended  prophet. 

In  this  way  he  laid  the  foundation  of  a  religious 
faith,  and  in  order  to  secure  its  observance  and  exten- 
sion, he  established  an  empire,  in  all  the  dominions  of 
which,  submission  to  this  faith  was  required.  When 
he  died,  his  successors  continued  to  propagate  his 
faith,  and  it  thus  became  extended  over  a  consider- 
able part  of  Asia.  From  that  time  to  this,  it  has 
been  the  creed  of  a  large  portion  of  mankind.  At 


228 


THE  BIBLE. 


the  present  day,  it  prevails  among  the  Turks  of  Eu- 
rope, and  among  many  of  the  nations  of  Asia  and 
Africa. 

It  is  not  a  difficult  question  for  us  to  decide  whether 
the  Koran  is  a  true  revelation  from  God  or  not.  There 
are  several  tests  which  we  may  apply  to  such  a  work, 
in  order  to  determine  its  truth,  all  which,  we  shall  see, 
concur  in  condemning  Mahomet  as  a  deceiver,  and  his 
work  as  an  imposition. 

In  the  first  place,  Mahomet  pretended  to  miraculous 
interviews  with  angels  and  flights  to  Heaven  ;  but  he 
gives  no  proof  of  the  fact,  and  on  investigation,  it  ap- 
pears that  these  miracles  were  mere  tricks  and  decep- 
tions. In  the  next  place,  Mahomet  was  a  man  of  bad 
character,  and  he  used  the  power  he  acquired  for  self- 
ish purposes ;  and  finally,  the  Koran  itself  is  filled 
with  absurdities.  Thus  the  book  and  its  author  are 
condemned  for  the  want  of  evidence  to  support  their 
pretensions,  from  the  selfish  origin  of  the  former,  from 
the  inconsistency  of  the  character  of  Mahomet  with 
his  pretensions,  and  from  the  monstrous  doctrines  con- 
tained in  his  revelation. 

Among  the  inhabitants  of  Hindostan,  there  are  sev- 
eral books  which  are  called  sacred,  and  which,  for 
many  ages,  have  been  regarded  by  the  people  as  divine 
revelations.  But  these  too  are  unsupported  by  any 
proof  from  history  that  they  came  from  God ;  and 
though  they  abound  in  sublime  truths,  yet  they  are 
marred  with  passages  of  the  grossest  folly  and  ab- 
surdity. 

There  are  also  in  China,  in  Japan,  in  Thibet,  and 
other  countries,  pretended  revelations,  either  written 


THE  BIBLE.  229 

and  preserved  in  books,  or  handed  down  by  tradition, 
and  propagated  by  the  priests.  But  none  of  these  can 
bear  the  test  of  rational  examination — they  are  all  the 
offspring  of  human  invention,  illuminated  by  passages 
borrowed  from  the  light  of  nature,  or  the  early  revela- 
tions of  God  to  man,  or  from  our  own  sacred  Scriptures. 

There  is  but  one  work  which  can  for  a  moment 
claim  the  confidence  of  an  enlightened  mind  as  a  di- 
vine revelation,  and  this  is  the  book  which  we  call  the 
Bible.  If  this  does  not  contain  a  revelation  of  God's 
will,  then  there  is  none  other  than  the  light  which  na- 
ture affords.  If  this  is  not  true,  then  man  is  left  by  his 
Maker  without  a  lamp  to  guide  him  in  his  way 
through  the  labyrinths  of  life,  uncertain  of  what  he  is, 
and  doubtful  of  his  duty  and  his  destiny. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  BIBLE. — The  Bible  consists  of  va- 
rious books,  written  by  different  persons  at  different 
times.  Some  of  these  record  historical  events ;  some 
repeat  the  words  of  prophets ;  some  express  the  feel- 
ings of  pious  men ;  some  relate  chiefly  to  Christ  and 
his  apostles ;  others  inculcate  points  of  doctrine.  • 

The  Bible  consists  of  two  portions,  called  the  Old 
and  New  Testament.  The  former  were  the  sacred 
books  of  the  Jews,  and  derived  the  name  of  testament 
from  being  understood  to  set  forth  a  covenant  between 
God  and  his  chosen  people,  the  Jews.  The  New 
Testament  is  so  called  from  its  being  understood  to  set 
forth  a  new  covenant  between  God  and  all  mankind, 
which  covenant,  however,  is  regarded  as  but  a  com- 
pletion of  that  made  with  the  Jews. 

The  five  first  books  of  the  Old  Testament  are  said 
to  have  been  written  by  Moses,  about  3280  years  ago. 


230  THE    BIBLE. 

These  consist  of  Genesis,  Exodus,  Leviticus,  Num- 
bers, and  Deuteronomy.  They  contain  the  history 
of  the  creation  of  the  world,  of  the  origin  of  the 
human  race,  of  their  increase,  their  great  wickedness, 
and  their  destruction  by  the  Deluge,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Noah  and  his  family.  They  also  contain  the 
history  of  Abraham,  of  Isaac  and  Jacob,  of  the  bond- 
age of  the  Jews  in  Egypt,  of  their  deliverance,  and 
their  wanderings  in  the  wilderness. 

The  other  books  of  the  Old  Testament  were  written 
by  various  authors ;  some  of  them  are  historical ; 
some  prophetic ;  and  some  poetical.  These  books 
appear  to  have  been  held  in  the  highest  reverence  by 
the  Jews  from  very  early  times.  The  books  of  Moses 
were  deposited,  according  to  the  Bible,  after  his  death, 
in  the  tabernacle,  near  the  ark  ;  the  other  sacred  wri- 
tings, it  is  said,  were  successively  deposited  in  the 
same  place,  as  they  were  written.  After  the  building 
of  the  temple,  they  were  removed  by  Solomon  to  that 
edifice.  On  the  capture  of  Jerusalem  by  Nebuchad- 
nezzar, in  the  year  606,  B.  C.,  the  original  writings 
probably  perished,  but  numerous  copies  were  pre- 
served. 

The  Jews  returned  from  their  captivity  536  B.  C., 
and  having  rebuilt  their  temple  and  restored  their  reli- 
gion, it  is  said  that  the  prophet  Ezra,  in  connection 
with  other  learned  men,  collected  all  the  copies  of  the 
sacred  writings  that  could  be  found,  and  made  out  a 
new  and  correct  edition,  to  which  he  is  supposed  to  have 
made  certain  additions,  as  for  instance  the  last  chapter 
of  Deuteronomy,  which  records  the  death  of  Moses. 
This  revised  and  corrected  copy,  with  the  books  of 


THE    BIBLE.  231 

Ezra,  Malachi,  and  Nehemiah,  which  were  added 
by  Simon  the  Just,  constituted  the  complete  Jewish 
scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  are  regarded  as 
sacred  by  the  Jews  to  the  present  day.  These  were 
all  first  written  in  the  Hebrew  language. 

The  New  Testament  also  consists  of  several  books 
written  by  different  authors.  The  four  Gospels  of 
Matthew,  Mark,  Luke  and  John,  record  the  life  and 
death  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  were  severally  written  by 
the  disciples  whose  names  they  bear.  The  Acts  were 
written  by  Luke. 

The  Jews  reject  the  New  Testament,  all  the  books 
of  which  were  originally  written  in  Greek ;  but  the 
present  acknowledged  books  were  received  by  the 
early  Christians,  and  copies  of  them  were  soon  made 
in  many  languages.  In  modern  times,  the  greatest 
pains  have  been  taken  to  render  the  editions  of  the 
New  and  Old  Testament  correct ;  and  in  order  to 
accomplish  this,  hundreds  of  copies  in  different  lan- 
guages have  been  compared,  line  byline  and  letter  by 
letter. 

The  several  books  of  the  Bible  were  originally 
written  continuously,  without  division  and  without 
punctuation.  They  were  formed  into  chapters  and 
verses  from  the  13th  to  the  15th  centuries.  The 
punctuation  is  also  of  modern  date. 

The  English  translation  of  the  Bible  in  common 
use  was  made  by  command  of  King  James  I.,  of 
England,  and  forty-seveji  learned  persons  were 
charged  with  the  task.  It  was  most  elaborately  and 
carefully  prepared,  and  was  first  printed  in  1611. 
Various  attempts  have  been  made  to  improve  this 


232  THE   BIBLE. 

English  version  of  the  sacred  writings,  but  none  has 
met  with  approbation  at  the  hands  of  the  Christian 
public. 

MODE  OF  TESTING  THE  AUTHENTICITY  OF  THE  BlBLE. 

— Such  is  a  brief  history  of  the  Bible,  and  the  ques- 
tion we  are  to  consider  is,  whether  that  book  is  true. 
Most  of  the  writers,  both  in  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment, claim  to  have  been  inspired  by  God,  and  Chris- 
tians hold  that  these  books  contain  a  genuine  Revela- 
tion of  God's  will  to  man.  Are  these  claims  well 
founded  ? 

There  are  several  kinds  of  proof  which  may  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  question  of  the  truth  of  the 
Bible.  The  first  is  historical  proof,  by  which  we  may 
show  that  these  books  are  of  great  antiquity ;  that 
they  were  actually  written  by  the  persons  who  profess 
to  have  written  them ;  that  they  have  been  held  in 
reverence  and  regarded  as  true  for  ages,  by  those  best 
qualified  to  judge  of  their  authenticity,  and  that  they 
truly  record  real  events. 

Another  kind  of  proof  is  derived  from  tracing  a 
harmony  between  the  several  parts  of  the  representa- 
tion, as  well  as  an  agreement  with  known  and  estab- 
lished historical  dates  and  events ;  a  suitableness  of 
style,  and  the  development  of  great  and  sublime  con- 
ceptions. 

Another  kind  of  proof  is  that  derived  from  miracles, 
and  another,  that  deduced  from  prophecy,  by  which  it 
may  be  shown  that  some  of  the  scripture  characters 
have  foretold  events  which  have  actually  come  to  pass. 
Another  kind  is  negative  proof,  which  is  the  want  of 
evidence  against  the  claims  of  the  Bible. 


THE    BIBLE. 

Let  us  in  a  very  brief  manner  apply  these  several 
tests  to  the  scriptures,  and  see  the  result. 

THE  NEW  TESTAMENT. — Let  us  first  direct  our  at- 
tention to  the  New  Testament,  which  consists  of  28 
books.  The  first  four,  called  the  Gospels,  purport  to 
have  been  written  by  four  of  Christ's  disciples,  Mat- 
thew, Mark,  Luke  and  John  :  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
are  supposed  to  have  been  written  by  Luke.  The 
Epistles  to  the  Romans,  Corinthians,  Galatians,  Ephe- 
sians,  Philippians,  Colossians,  Thessalonians,  to  Timo- 
thy, Titus,  Philemon,  and  to  the  Hebrews,  are  sup- 
posed to  have  been  written  by  Paul.  The  other 
Epistles  bear  the  names  of  their  several  reputed 
authors.  The  Book  of  Revelation  claims  to  have  been 
written  by  John,  the  author  of  the  Gospel. 

The  Gospels,  as  before  remarked,  are  chiefly  occu- 
pied in  detailing  the  circumstances  which  attended  the 
birth,  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus  Christ.  They  relate 
that  he  was  born  in  humble  circumstances,  that  he  was 
without  education,  and  was  chiefly  occupied  as  a  car- 
penter, till  about  thirty  years  of  age.  He  then  entered 
upon  his  ministry,  and  began  to  teach  doctrines  entirely 
new  to  the  people  and  to  the  world.  His  life  was 
blameless,  and  his  manners  were  marked  with  a  hu- 
mility and  meekness  never  known  before.  He  claimed 
to  be  sent  by  divine  authority  to  communicate  impor- 
tant truths  to  mankind,  and  to  prove  the  justice  of  these 
pretensions,  he  wrought  several  miracles  which  were 
witnessed  by  thousands.  He  chose  twelve  persons 
from  humble  life  to  be  his  followers,  and  to  them  he 
taught  his  religion.  He  spent  a  great  part  of  his  time 
in  Jerusalem,  but  made  occasional  visits  to  neighbor- 


234  THE   BIBLE. 

ing  villages,  and  other  places,  especially  his  native 
province  of  Galilee. 

Wherever  he  went,  he  healed  the  sick,  comforted 
the  distressed,  preached  his  doctrines,  and  wrought 
miracles  to  give  efficacy  to  his  creed.  At  length, 
agreeably  to  his  own  prediction,  he  was  seized  by  the 
public  authorities  at  Jerusalem,  and  patiently  submit- 
ting, was  abused,  reviled,  and  finally  nailed  to  a  cross, 
where  he  died  in  extreme  agony.  He  was  put  into  a 
stone  coffin,  where  his  lifeless  body  lay  for  three  days, 
when  he  arose  from  the  dead.  For  forty  days  he  now 
showed  himself  to  his  apostles,  and  spoke  fully  to  them 
of  the  "  things  pertaining  to  the  kingdom  of  God." 

"  He  commanded  them  that  they  should  not  depart 
from  Jerusalem,  but  wait  for  the  promise  of  the  Fa- 
ther, which,  saith  he,  ye  have  heard  of  me. 

"  For  John  truly  baptized  with  water ;  but  ye  shall 
be  baptized  with  the  Holy  Ghost  not  many  days  hence. 

"  When  they  therefore  were  come  together,  they 
asked  of  him,  saying,  Lord,  wilt  thou  at  this  time 
restore  again  the  kingdom  to  Israel  ? 

"  And  he  said  unto  them,  It  is  not  for  you  to  know 
the  times  or  the  seasons  which  the  Father  hath  put  in 
his  own  power. 

"  But  ye  shall  receive  power  after  that  the  Holy 
Ghost  is  come  upon  you,  and  ye  shall  be  witnesses 
unto  me,  both  in  Jerusalem,  and  in  all  Judea,  and  in 
Samaria,  and  unto  the  uttermost  part  of  the  earth. 

"  And  when  he  had  spoken  these  things,  while  they 
beheld,  he  was  taken  up ;  and  a  cloud  received  him 
out  of  their  sight. 

"  And  while  they  looked  steadfastly  toward  heaven 


THE    BIBLE.  235 

as  he  went  up,  behold,  two  men  stood  by  them  in  white 
apparel ; 

"  Which  also  said,  Ye  men  of  Galilee,  why  stand 
ye  gazing  up  into  heaven  ?  This  same  Jesus,  which 
is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in  like 
manner  as  ye  have  seen  him  go  into  heaven. 

"  Then  returned  they  unto  Jerusalem,  from  the 
mount  called  Olivet,  which  is  from  Jerusalem  a  Sab- 
bath-day's journey." 

Such  is  the  memoir  of  Christ,  handed  down  to  us 
in  the  Gospels.  The  great  end  and  design  of  his 
preaching  is  there  represented  to  be  to  announce  a 
new,  peculiar,  and  most  important  revelation  from 
God ;  his  miracles  were  intended  to  sanction  the  faith 
he  thus  taught ;  his  death  was  designed,  in  part,  as  a 
seal  to  the  truth  and  divinity  of  his  mission.  His 
apostles  were  sent  forth  to  inculcate  the  "  good  news," 
the  "  glad  tidings,"  to  all  mankind,  which  Christ  had 
published  to  the  people  of  Judea.  They  were,  in 
short,  to  propagate  a  new  religion,  which  in  its  very 
nature  held  all  other  religions  to  be  false,  wicked  and 
delusive. 

The  period  of  these  events,  was  about  1SOO  years 
ago.  At  that  time  the  whole  of  Judea  was  reduced  to 
a  Roman  province.  Rome  had  then  extended  her 
sway  over  nearly  the  whole  civilized  world.  Her 
authority  was  generally  well  settled,  and  around  the 
entire  borders  of  the  Mediterranean  sea,  easy  and  fre- 
quent communication  was  had  between  the  several 
countries  and  the  city  of  Rome,  where  Tiberius  Cesar, 
then  the  emperor,  resided. 

The  art  of  printing  was  then  unknown,  and  educa- 


236  CHRISTIANITY. 

tion  was  not  diffused  among  the  people.  Writing  on 
parchment  was,  however,  a  common  practice,  and 
many  books  were  written.  There  were  many  learned 
men  at  Rome,  and  the  military  and  civil  officers  in  the 
different  provinces  were  mostly  well  educated,  and 
made  frequent  written  communications  to  the  govern- 
ment at  the  capital.  It  was  by  no  means  a  dark  age, 
as  it  respected  the  means  of  reading  and  disseminating 
knowledge ;  but  was,  on  the  contrary,  near  the  precise 
period  when  Roman  literature  had  reached  its  highest 
pitch  of  glory. 

The  people  of  Rome  had  early  adopted  the  fanciful 
mythology  of  the  Greeks,  with  its  numberless  deities  ; 
and  wherever  Rome  had  carried  her  conquests,  she 
had  transplanted  this  religion.  The  Jews  still  kept 
their  sacred  books,  and  maintained  the  forms  of  their 
peculiar  religion ;  but  the  spirit  of  the  patriarchs  and 
the  prophets,  which  had  dwelt  with  the  people  in  for- 
mer ages,  had  now  departed.  Many  of  the  Jews 
were  in  fact  idolaters,  and  most  of  those  who  held  to 
the  faith  of  their  fathers,  had  adopted  the  selfish  and 
corrupt  practical  philosophy  of  the  heathen  around 
them. 

The  fashionable  religion — the  religion  of  the  gov- 
ernment— of  the  office-holders — of  the  rich,  the  learn- 
ed, the  fortunate  and  the  powerful,  and  indeed  of 
nearly  the  whole  mass  of  the  people  throughout  the 
Roman  empire,  then  including  nearly  all  Europe,  a 
large  part  of  Africa,  and  the  greater  portion  of  Asia — 
was  the  religion  of  many  gods,  and  involved  the  wor- 
ship of  a  great  number  of  deities.  To  these,  beautiful 
images  and  superb  temples  were  everywhere  erected. 


CHRISTIANITY.  237 

Their  peculiar  rites  and  ceremonies  were  attended  by 
multitudes  of  priests,  and  set  forth  with  all  the  pomp 
and  circumstance  calculated  to  lead  captive  the  imagi- 
nation of  a  superstitious  age.  The  priests,  too,  were 
generally  the  agents  and  tools  of  the  government,  and 
as  they  sustained  the  ruling  powers  by  all  the  influ- 
ence they  acquired  over  the  minds  of  their  followers, 
so  the  government  in  return  felt  interested  in  giving 
their  support  to  the  idolatries  of  the  priests. 

Such  was  the  political  condition  of  the  world — such 
the  state  of  society — such  the  fortified  position  of  pa- 
ganism, at  the  time  when  it  is  said  that  Jesus  Christ 
appeared  to  propound  a  new  faith  to  mankind,  and 
when,  dying  himself  to  attest  its  truth,  he  rose  from 
the  dead  to  assure  his  apostles,  and  to  send  them  forth 
on  their  perilous  errand  of  converting  a  world  from 
their  loved  idolatries  to  a  pure,  self-denying  creed. 

GENUINENESS  AND  VERACITY  OF  THE  NEW  TESTA- 
MENT.— In  our  brief  space  we  cannot  enter  fully  into 
the  argument  to  prove  that  the  books  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament are  genuine  and  true ;  nor  can  we  do  more 
than  glance  at  the  train  of  remark,  which  seems  suf- 
ficient to  establish  this  point. 

In  the  first  place,  we  have  shown  that  a  revelation 
of  God's  will,  more  full  than  is  made  manifest  by  the 
light  of  nature,  was  needed  by  man,  and  it  was  infer- 
red from  analogy  that  it  was  reasonable  to  expect  such 
a  revelation. 

To  this  we  may  add,  that  Tacitus,  an  accredited 
Roman  historian,  states  the  fact  that  Christ  was  exe- 
cuted in  Judea  for  his  religion,  and  that  the  Christian 
faith  rapidly  increased  and  extended  itself  to  other 


CHRISTIANITY. 

countries.  Here  is  a  confirmation  of  a  material  por- 
tion of  the  New  Testament  history,  furnished  by  an 
unbeliever. 

We  know  that  the  only  plausible  account  of  Christ 
and  the  commencement  of  Christianity,  that  has  been 
set  up,  is  that  of  the  New  Testament ;  for  no  other  is 
brought  forward  by  friend  or  foe.  As  Christianity  did 
originate,  as  Christ  lived  and  died  for  his  religion,  and 
as  there  is  no  credible  rival  story  of  these  things,  how 
can  we  reject  that  of  the  New  Testament  ? 

In  confirmation  of  this,  we  find  that  all  the  Christian 
writers,  from  those  who  were  companions  of  the  apos- 
tles to  the  latest  times,  speak  as  if  the  New  Testament 
account  was  the  true  one,  and  the  only  one. 

To  prove  that  the  books  of  the  New  Testament  are 
genuine  and  authentic,  that  is,  written  by  those  to 
whom  they  are  attributed,  we  may  remark  that  there 
were,  in  very  early  times,  multitudes  of  copies,  in 
countries  widely  separated ;  and  that  they  were  found 
in  many  languages.  The  style  is  also  appropriate  to 
their  reputed  authors.  Christian  writers  and  churches 
very  early  came  to  an  agreement  upon  the  subject. 
They  are  quoted  by  early  writers,  as  of  the  highest 
authority ;  they  were  early  collected  into  a  volume  ; 
they  were  publicly  read  and  expounded  in  the  assem- 
blies of  the  early  Christians ;  they  were  received  by 
different  sects  of  Christians,  were  appealed  to  by  them, 
and  were  attacked  by  their  enemies,  as  containing  the 
creed  of  the  Christians.  All  these  circumstances  seem 
to  afford  conclusive  evidence  of  their  authenticity — 
for  all  those  who  had  the  best  opportunity  to  judge, 
concur  in  one  opinion  on  this  point. 


CHRISTIANITY.  239 

In  proof  of  the  truth  or  veracity  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment history,  we  may  appeal  to  the  candor  of  the 
writers  :  the  naturalness  of  their  mode  of  writing  ;  the 
wonderful  unity  or  harmony  of  Christ's  character ;  the 
remarkable  accuracy  of  the  historical  details  and  allu- 
sions to  manners  and  customs,  when  compared  with 
Jewish  writers ;  the  originality,  wisdom  and  elevation 
of  Christ's  doctrine,  entirely  beyond  the  capacity  of 
the  evangelists  to  invent ;  the  purity  and  exaltation  of 
Christ's  character,  the  greatest  ever  conceived,  and 
above  all  human  invention ;  the  rapid  extension  of 
Christianity  in  Jerusalem  and  Judea,  where  the  best 
possible  means  for  investigating  its  claims  existed,  and 
where  conviction  of  its  truth,  founded  upon  evidence, 
must  have  been,  in  part,  the  means  of  propagating  it. 

To  prove  the  divine  mission  of  Christ,  we  might 
refer  to  his  morality ;  to  the  originality  and  sublimity 
of  his  doctrines ;  to  the  purity  of  his  character,  sur- 
passing every  human  example;  to  his  incontestable 
miracles ;  to  the  prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament,  ut- 
tered before  he  came,  and  literally  fulfilled  in  him ;  to 
his  own  remarkable  prophecy  of  the  destruction  of  Je- 
rusalem, which  afterwards  came  to  pass  as  he  had  pre- 
dicted ;  to  the  success  and  final  triumph  of  his  religion, 
aided  by  no  wealth,  or  power,  or  artifice, — yet  opposed 
by  interested  governments,  potentates  and  priests,  by 
established  prejudices,  and  the  suggestions  of  the  self- 
ish human  heart. 

Is  it  possible  for  all  these  signs  and  evidences  of 
truth  to  fail  ?  If  a  person  embraces  the  belief  that  the 
New  Testament  is  a  fable  and  Christ  an  impostor,  does 
he  not  take  the  improbable  and  incredible  side  of  the 


240 


CHRISTIANITY. 


question  ?  Let  us  consider  how  difficult  it  is  for  a 
rogue  to  fabricate  a  story  without  exposing  himself  to 
certain  detection,  and  we  shall  see  the  force  of  demon- 
stration which  belongs  to  this  accumulated  evidence, 
in  favor  of  the  truth  of  the  New  Testament. 

How  difficult  it  is  for  a  counterfeiter  even  of  bank 
notes  to  escape  exposure !  How  nearly  impossible  for 
a  murderer  to  secure  himself  from  discovery  !  How 
easily  all  the  artifices  and  disguises  of  thieves,  robbers 
and  pickpockets,  in  framing  their  stories,  are  frustrat- 
ed !  And  yet  the  Gospel  has  stood  to  this  day,  defy- 
ing every  charge  of  inconsistency,  every  refutation  of 
fact,  every  contradiction  from  history  !  Every  engine 
of  wit,  malice,  ridicule,  logic,  criticism,  eloquence, 
learning  and  ingenuity,  has  been  brought  to  bear  upon 
it,  without  avail.  It  has  stood  the  test  of  time,  the 
sifting  of  ages.  Is  such  a  work  now  to  be  set  down  as 
only  a  cunningly  devised  fable  ?  A  man  who  wishes 
to  escape  receiving  the  greatest  of  miracles,  must  be- 
lieve the  story  of  the  evangelists ;  for  never  has  such 
a  weight  of  evidence  been  accumulated  in  favor  of 
a  falsehood,  as  prophecy,  history,  analogy,  and  human 
events  have  heaped  up  in  favor  of  the  truth  of  the  New 
Testament,  and  the  divinity  of  Christ's  mission.  If 
these  evidences  lie,  then  a  miracle  has  been  performed 
to  which  human  history  furnishes  no  parallel ;  then 
human  reason  is  a  misguiding  light,  and  the  acknow- 
ledged tests  of  truth  are  but  evidences  of  falsehood. 

INSPIRATION  OF  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT  BOOKS. — 
Having  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  books  of  the 
New  Testament  are  historically  true,  and  that  Christ 
was  a  divine  messenger,  we  come  now  to  consider 


CHRISTIANITY.  241 

whether  the  writers  of  these  works  were  inspired  by 
the  Spirit  of  God,  and  whether  the  doctrines  therein 
contained  lay  just  claim  to  the  belief  and  observance 
of  mankind. 

The  divine  authority  of  Christ  is  proved  by  the 
prophecies  concerning  him  ;  by  the  miracles  he 
wrought ;  by  the  sublimity  and  originality  of  his  doc- 
trines, his  morality  and  his  character.  "We  cannot 
doubt  then  that  he  was  sent  of  God.  And  for  what 
purpose  was  he  sent  ?  Unquestionably  to  reveal 
truth ;  for  God  would  not  grant  such  power  as  Christ 
possessed  and  exercised  to  an  impostor  or  a  fanatic. 
God  would  not  have  bestowed  the  gift  of  prophecy 
upon  Isaiah  and  others  to  predict  the  coming  of  Christ, 
and  persuade  mankind  to  believe  in  him,  if  he  was  to 
be  a  deceiver  or  a  cheat. 

We  are  bound  then  to  consider  Christ  as  delivering 
the  WORD  OF  GOD  :  but  the  question  now  before  us  is, 
did  the  evangelists  accurately  represent  what  Christ 
said  ?  We  have  the  best  reason  to  believe  that  they 
did,  and  that  in  writing  their  histories  they  were  aided 
by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  thus  preserved  from  essen- 
tial error.  This  is  the  view  taken  of  the  Gospels  by 
the  early  Christians,  those  who  had  communion  with 
the  apostles,  and  who  had  the  best  possible  means  of 
knowing  the  truth.  Besides,  the  general  harmony  of 
the  Gospels  in  every  material  respect ;  the  simplicity 
and  beauty  of  the  narratives  ;  the  unity  with  which 
'  Christ's  doctrines  are  represented,  and  the  power  with 
which  his  exalted  character  is  delineated ;  the  remark- 
able preservation  of  these  books  ;  their  efficacy  in  ele- 
vating and  purifying  the  heart,  attested  by  Christians 
p 


SJ4Si  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  all  ages ; — these  are  considered  incontestable  evi- 
dences that  the  Spirit  of  God  has  ever  watched  over 
these  writings — inspiring  them  in  the  first  instance, 
and  guarding  them  from  destruction  or  essential 
mutation  in  after  times. 

Some  of  the  same  arguments  apply  to  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles  and  the  Epistles ;  besides  which,  the 
writers  of  some  of  the  New  Testament  books  expressly 
claim  to  be  aided  by  divine  inspiration.  This  claim, 
coming  from  apostles  sent  by  Christ,  and  who  wrought 
miracles  in  attestation  of  their  authority,  cannot  be 
resisted.  We  are  safe  then  in  admitting  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  New  Testament;  nay,  are  we  not  con- 
strained by  force  of  evidence  to  consider  this  point  as 
settled  ? 

INSPIRATION  OF  THE  OLD  TESTAMENT. — Having 
shown  that  the  New  Testament  is  authentic,  histori- 
cally and  doctrinally,  and  is  in  short  a  genuine  reve- 
lation of  God's  will  to  man,  let  us  consider  the  title  of 
the  Old  Testament  to  our  confidence,  as  a  series  of 
inspired  books. 

The  Jews  claimed,  in  the  time  of  Christ,  as  they 
claim  now,  that  the  books  of  the  Old  Testament  are 
of  divine  authority.  This  claim  is  fully  admitted  by 
Christ  and  his  apostles ;  and  these,  as  we  have  shown, 
having  been  sent  of  God,  to  communicate  truth  to 
man — we  are  certainly  bound  to  receive  their  sanction 
of  the  Old  Testament  as  authoritative  with  us.  This 
is  a  part  of  their  testimony,  and  we  cannot  gainsay  it. 

Besides,  let  us  look  at  the  intrinsic  evidences  of  the 
divine  origin  of  the  books  of  the  Old  Testament. 
These  contained  the  religion  of  the  Jews ;  from  these 


CHRISTIANITY.  243 

books  alone  the  Jews  derived  their  notions  of  God — 
the  relation  that  He  sustains  to  man,  and  man  to 
Him. 

In  these  respects,  how  vastly  superior  were  the 
Jews  to  all  other  ancient  nations,  while  in  everything 
else  they  were  inferior  to  the  Egyptians,  Persians, 
Greeks  and  Romans.  It  has  been  remarked  that  in 
religion  the  Jews  were  men,  while  other  nations  were 
children  ;  in  all  worldly  knowledge  they  were  children, 
while  others  were  men. 

How  did  it  happen  that  an  ignorant  and  unenlight- 
ened people  should  have  possessed  from  the  earliest 
ages  true  notions  of  the  Deity,  exalted  views  of  his 
character,  eloquent  and  sublime  delineations  of  his 
works,  while  other  nations,  even  those  which  had 
risen  to  great  perfection  in  various  arts,  and  had  pro- 
duced philosophers  and  poets — who  even  now  chal- 
lenge the  admiration  of  mankind, — were  groping  in 
religious  and  moral  darkness,  unable  to  discover  even 
a  ray  of  that  glorious  light,  which  all  this  time  was 
shining  in  the  books  of  the  Old  Testament  among 
the  obscure,  illiterate,  despised  Jews  ? 

Let  us  make  a  comparison.  Homer  is  admitted  to 
have  been  a  man  of  great  genius.  He  is  usually 
regarded  as  the  greatest  and  most  sublime  poet  that 
ever  lived.  His  works  have  come  down  to  us,  nearly 
perfect.  They  indeed  display  a  vigor  of  fancy,  a 
power  of  invention,  a  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
fully  entitling  him  to  the  great  name  that  is  assigned 
to  him. 

A  considerable  portion  of  his  works  are  devoted  to 
religious  topics.  His  system  of  theology  is,  that  there 


244  CHRISTIANITY. 

are  a  multitude  of  gods  and  goddesses,  over  whom 
there  is  one  great  presiding  deity.  These  he  has 
portrayed  with  all  the  force  of  his  inimitable  pencil. 
And  yet  what  are  they  ?  The  sublimest  conceptions 
of  this  master-poet  represent  the  best  and  greatest  of 
these  deities  as  filled  with  the  vilest  of  human  pas- 
sions, and  tarnished  with  the  coarsest  and  grossest  of 
human  vices. 

In  religion,  then,  Homer  is  a  child ;  with  the  pow- 
erful wing  of  genius,  he  cannot  rise  above  the  vulgar 
theology  of  his  day  and  generation ;  his  noblest  con- 
ception of  God  is  Jupiter,  who  would,  on  earth,  be  a 
very  bad,  unprincipled  and  despicable  man. 

Homer  is  reputed  to  have  lived  about  900  years 
before  Christ,  and  to  have  been  brought  up  among  a 
people  more  civilized  and  farther  advanced  in  knowl- 
edge than  the  Jews  at  the  same  period  of  time.  He 
appears  also  to  have  been  a  man  of  considerable  learn- 
ing, and  has  been  thought  to  have  travelled  in  Egypt, 
then  the  great  centre  of  civilization  and  philosophy. 

About  the  same  age,  or  perhaps  100  years  after, 
Isaiah,  the  prophet  of  the  Jews,  flourished.  He  was 
not  a  man  of  genius  ;  he  had  no  advantages  of  general 
instruction ;  he  was  inferior  to  Homer  in  knowledge 
and  learning ;  he  had  had  no  advantages  from  travel, 
or  intercourse  with  enlightened  people.  In  every- 
thing belonging  to  education,  he  was  far  below  the 
children  in  our  common  schools,  for  they  are  taught  a 
vast  deal  that  Isaiah  never  knew.  And  yet  Isaiah,  in 
his  conceptions  of  the  Deity,  not  only  put  Homer  to 
the  blush,  but  no  after  age  has  been  able  to  rival  his 
pages.  He  not  only  conceived  the  grand  idea  of 


CHRISTIANITY.  245 

ONE  GOD,  the  truth  of  which  subsequent  ages  have 
demonstrated,  but  he  delineated  God's  character  with 
a  beauty,  power  and  sublimity,  that  has  never  been 
equalled.  Let  us  quote  a  few  passages. 

"Thus  saith  God  the  LORD,  he- that  created  the 
heavens  and  stretched  them  out ;  he  that  spread  forth 
the  earth,  and  that  which  cometh  out  of  it ;  he  that 
giveth  breath  unto  the  people  upon  it,  and  spirit  to 
them  that  walk  therein  :  I  the  LORD  have  called  thee 
in  righteousness,  and  will  hold  thy  hand,  and  will 
keep  thee,  and  give  thee  for  a  covenant  of  the  people, 
for  a  light  of  the  Gentiles :  to  open  the  blind  eyes,  to 
bring  out  the  prisoners  from  the  prison,  and  them  that 
sit  in  darkness  out  of  the  prison-house.  I  am  the 
Lord  :  that  is  my  name  :  and  my  glory  will  I  not  give 
to  another,  neither  my  praise  to  graven  images." — 
Isaiah,  ch.  xlii. 

"  I  am  the  Lord,  and  there  is  none  else,  there  is  no 
God  besides  me  :  I  girded  thee,  though  thou  hast  not 
known  me :  that  they  may  know  from  the  rising  of 
the  sun,  and  from  the  west,  that  there  is  none  besides 
me.  I  am  the  Lord,  and  there  is  none  else.  I  form 
the  light,  and  create  darkness :  I  make  peace  and 
create  evil :  I  the  Lord  do  all  these  things.  Drop 
down,  ye  heavens,  from  above,  and  let  the  skies  pour 
down  righteousness :  let  the  earth  open,  and  let  them 
bring  forth  salvation,  and  let  righteousness  spring  up 
together;  I  the  Lord  have  created  it."  "For  thus 
saith  the  Lord  that  created  the  heavens ;  God  him- 
self that  formed  the  earth  and  made  it ;  he  hath  estab- 
lished it,  he  created  it  not  in  vain,  he  formed  it  to  be 
inhabited  :  I  am  the  Lord ;  and  there  is  none  else.  I 


246  CHRISTIANITY. 

have  not  spoken  in  secret,  in  a  dark  place  of  the  earth : 
I  said  not  unto  the  seed  of  Jacob,  Seek  ye  me  in  vain : 
I  the  Lord  speak  righteousness,  I  declare  things  that 
are  right." 

"  Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  the  ends  of 
the  earth :  for  I  am  God,  and  there  is  none  else.  I 
have  sworn  by  myself,  the  word  is  gone  out  of  my 
mouth  in  righteousness,  and  shall  not  return,  That 
unto  me  every  knee  shall  bow,  every  tongue  shall 
swear."— Isaiah,  ch.  xlv. 

"  For  the  Lord  shall  comfort  Zion :  he  will  comfort 
all  her  waste  places ;  and  he  will  make  her  wilder- 
ness like  Eden,  and  her  desert  like  the  garden  of  the 
Lord;  joy  and  gladness  shall  be  found  therein, 
thanksgiving,  and  the  voice  of  melody. 

"  Hearken  unto  me,  my  people ;  and  give  ear  unto 
me,  0  my  nation:  for  a  law  shall  proceed  from  me, 
and  I  will  make  my  judgment  to  rest  for  a  light  of  the 
people.  My  righteousness  is  near ;  my  salvation  is 
gone  forth,  and  mine  arms  shall  judge  the  people ;  the 
isles  shall  wait  upon  me,  and  on  mine  arm  shall  they 
trust.  Lift  up  your  eyes  to  the  heavens,  and  look 
upon  the  earth  beneath :  for  the  heavens  shall  vanish 
away  like  smoke,  and  the  earth  shall  wax  old  like  a 
garment,  and  they  that  dwell  therein  shall  die  in  like 
manner :  but  my  salvation  shall  be  forever,  and  my 
righteousness  shall  not  be  abolished." — Isaiah,  ch.  li. 

Now  let  any  one  read  these  verses  and  compare 
them  with  all  that  heathen  antiquity  has  produced 
respecting  the  Deity,  and  let  him  say  how  an  igno- 
rant man,  in  an  unlettered  age,  and  among  an  unen- 
lightened people,  could  have  risen  to  conceptions,  so 


CHRISTIANITY.  247 

lofty  in  themselves,  and  so  superior  to  all  that  his 
cotemporaries  produced,  but  by  the  aid  of  inspiration. 
What  could  have  made  Isaiah  so  much  greater  than 
Homer,  but  this  ? 

Let  us  make  a  few  extracts  from  the  prophet  Ha- 
bakkuk,  who  flourished  about  a  century  after  Isaiah. 
The  following  passage  from  the  third  chapter,  is 
according  to  the  translation  of  Archbishop  Newcombe. 

"  God  came  from  Teman, 
And  the  Holy  One  from  Mount  Faran  : 
His  glory  covered  the  heavens, 
And  the  earth  was  full  of  his  praise. 
His  brightness  was  as  the  light : 
Rays  streamed  from  his  hand  ; 
And  there  was  the  hiding-place  of  his  power. 
Before  him  went  the  pestilence, 
And  flashes  of  fire  went  forth  after  him. 
He  stood  and  measured  the  earth ; 
He  beheld,  and  drove  asunder  the  nations. 
And  the  everlasting  mountains  were  scattered, 
The  perpetual  hills  bowed  down, 
The  eternal  paths  were  trodden  by  him. 

**##*:* 

The  mountains  saw  thee,  and  were  troubled  ; 
The  overflowing  of  waters  passed  away  : 
The  deep  uttered  its  voice, 
It  lifted  up  its  hands  on  high. 

The  sun  and  the  moon  stood  still  in  their  habitation. 

In  the  light  of  thine  arrows  they  vanished, 

In  the  brightness  of  the  lightning  of  thy  spear ! 

In  indignation  thou  didst  march  through  the  land, 

In  wrath  thou  didst  thresh  the  heathen. 

Thou  wentest  forth  for  the  deliverance  of  thy  people, 

Even  for  the  deliverance  of  thine  anointed. 


248  CHRISTIANITY. 

*  *  *  #  *  * 

Although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  flourish, 
And  there  be  no  produce  in  the  vines  ; 
The  fruit  of  the  olive  shall  fail, 
And  the  fields  shall  yield  no  food ; 
The  flocks  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold, 
And  there  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls  ; 
Yet  will  I  rejoice  in  Jehovah, 
I  will  exult  in  the  God  of  my  salvation. 
The  Lord  Jehovah  is  my  strength. 
He  will  make  my  feet  like  hind's  feet, 
He  will  cause  me  to  tread  on  mine  high  places." 

These  are  the  Avoids  of  another  Jewish  prophet ; 
and  what  is  there  in  any  ancient  heathen  writer  that 
gives  us  such  sublime  ideas  of  God  ?  And  how  was 
this  obscure  man  able  to  surpass  the  boasted  genius 
of  Greece  and  Rome ;  how  did  he  transcend  all  that 
the  human  mind  has  since  been  able  to  produce,  but 
through  the  gift  of  inspiration  ? 

PROPHECIES  FULFILLED. — We  might  here  adduce 
several  prophecies  of  Isaiah  and  others,  respect- 
ing our  Saviour,  and  show  their  fulfilment,  but  we 
choose  rather  to  cite  examples  in  which  the  fulfilment 
exists  in  our  own  days,  and  before  our  eyes.  In  the 
time  of  Isaiah,  Babylon,  situated  upon  the  river  Eu- 
phrates, was  a  city  of  the  greatest  magnificence.  It 
was  about  forty-eight  miles  in  circumference,  and 
was  defended  by  walls  of  vast  height  and  thickness. 
It  was  the  capital  of  the  great  empire  of  Assyria,  and 
was  enriched  by  her  emperors  with  the  spoils  of  the 
East.  It  was  indeed  a  great  and  proud  city,  and  re- 
joiced in  its  splendor.  Nothing  could  seem  more  im- 
probable than  that  this  metropolis  should  be  destroyed, 


CHRISTIANITY.  249 

and  the  very  place  where  it  stood  become  a  scene  of 
desolation ;  yet  the  prophet  lifted  up  his  voice  and 
pronounced  its  doom,  in  the  following  remarkable 
passages  : 

"  The  noise  of  a  multitude  in  the  mountains,  like  as 
of  a  great  people  ;  a  tumultuous  noise  of  the  kingdoms 
of  nations  gathered  together  ;  the  Lord  of  hosts  mus- 
tereth  the  host  of  the  battle.  They  come  from  a  far 
country,  from  the  end  of  heaven,  even  the  Lord,  and 
the  weapons  of  his  indignation,  to  destroy  the  whole 
land. 

"  Howl  ye  ;  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  is  at  hand  ;  it 
shall  come  as  a  destruction  from  the  Almighty.  There- 
fore shall  all  hands  be  faint,  and  every  man's  heart 
shall  melt ;  and  they  shall  be  afraid ;  pangs  and  sor- 
rows shall  take  hold  of  them ;  they  shall  be  in  pain 
as  a  woman  that  travaileth;  they  shall  be  amazed 
one  at  another ;  their  faces  shall  be  as  flames.  Be- 
hold, the  day  of  the  Lord  cometh,  cruel  both  with 
wrath  and  fierce  anger,  to  lay  the  land  desolate ;  and 
he  shall  destroy  the  sinners  thereof  out  of  it.  For  the 
stars  of  heaven  and  the  constellations  thereof  shall  not 
give  their  light;  the  sun  shall  be  darkened  in  his 
going  forth,  and  the  moon  shall  not  cause  her  light  to 
shine.  And  I  will  punish  the  world  for  their  evil, 
and  the  wicked  for  their  iniquity ;  and  I  will  cause 
the  arrogancy  of  the  proud  to  cease,  and  will  lay  low 
the  haughtiness  of  the  terrible." 

"  And  Babylon,  the  glory  of  kingdoms,  the  beauty 
of  the  Chaldees'  excellency,  shall  be  as  when  God 
overthrew  Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  It  shall  never  be 
inhabited,  neither  shall  it  be  dwelt  in  from  generation 


2OU  CHRISTIANITY. 

to  generation:  neither  shall  the  Arabian  pitch  tent 
there;  neither  shall  the  shepherds  make  their  fold 
there  ;  but  wild  beasts  of  the  desert  shall  lie  there ; 
and  their  houses  shall  be  full  of  doleful  creatures ; 
and  owls  shall  dwell  there,  and  satyrs  shall  dance 
there.  And  the  wild  beasts  of  the  islands  shall  cry  in 
their  desolate  houses,  and  dragons  in  their  pleasant 
palaces  :  and  her  time  is  near  to  come,  and  her  days 
shall  not  be  prolonged." — Isaiah,  ch.  xiii. 

About  a  hundred  years  after  this  prediction,  Baby- 
lon was  taken  by  Cyrus,  king  of  Persia,  and  from  that 
time  it  continued  to  decline.  It  gradually  sunk  into 
insignificance,  and,  in  spite  of  attempts  to  revive  its 
former  splendor,  it  at  last  became  a  heap  of  ruins. 
Modern  travellers  have  frequently  visited  the  spot,  and 
they  tell  us  that  the  scene  corresponds  literally  with 
the  preceding  predictions.  In  the  desolation  which 
now  marks  the  site  of  the  ancient  city  there  are  nu- 
merous caves,  where  even  the  identical  birds  and  ani- 
mals mentioned  by  Isaiah  are  found  to  have  taken  up 
their  abode.  Here,  then,  is  an  existing  witness  to  the 
literal  truth,  and  exact  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  that 
cannot  be  resisted. 

To  this  we  might  easily  add  other  instances  equally 
striking.  It  was  predicted  by  one  of  the  prophets,  of 
Ishmael's  descendants,  that  "  their  hand  should  be 
against  every  man,  and  every  man's  hand  against 
them."  The  Arabs  are  the  posterity  of  Ishmael,  a 
wild  and  wandering  race,  living  apart  from  the  rest  of 
the  world,  and  robbing  those  they  meet.  This  is  their 
character,  and  it  has  been  so  for  ages.  Could  any- 
thing be  more  descriptive  of  this  peculiar  people  than 


CHRISTIANITY.  251 

this  prophecy,  uttered  of  them  thousands  of  years 
ago? 

The  Jews,  too,  afford  a  wonderful  proof  of  the  truth 
of  ancient  predictions.  It  was  said  that  "  they  should 
be  plucked  from  off  their  own  land,  and  removed  into 
all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,"  and  behold  it  is  done. 
It  was  said  that  they  should  "  be  led  away  qaptive  into 
all  nations,  arid  Jerusalem  be  trodden  down  of  the 
Gentiles  ;"  and  this  is  literally  accomplished.  Other 
passages  speak  of  their  final  restoration  to  Jerusalem, 
the  land  of  their  fathers  ;  and  scattered  as  they  are, 
they  are  still  a  distinct  people,  and  seem  to  stand 
ready  for  the  appointed  time  to  fulfil  this  prediction. 

REVIEW  OF  THE  ARGUMENT. — The  claim  of  the 
Old-Testament  books,  to  be  regarded  as  "  given  by 
inspiration,"  rests  then  upon  very  strong  grounds. 
This  claim  had  been  maintained  by  the  Jews  for  ages, 
and  Christ  with  his  apostles,  expressly  sanctioned  it. 
The  testimony  of  witnesses,  shown  to  have  been  sent 
of  God,  ought  to  be  conclusive. 

But  the  argument  is  strongly  fortified  by  other  con- 
siderations. These  books  contained  ideas  entirely 
above  the  ages  in  which  they  were  produced.  If  we 
do  not  refer  their  origin  to  inspiration,  it  is  impossible 
to  account  for  them.  While  all  other  nations  were  in 
total  religious  darkness,  a  light  is  kindled  in  the  midst 
of  one  of  the  most  ignorant  and  unenlightened  of  all 
nations,  by  obscure  and  illiterate  men,  which  gathers 
brightness  as  time  advances,  and  at  length,  rising  to 
the  sky,  becomes  the  sun  of  even  our  enlightened 
age  !  Could  such  a  light  be  created  by  ignorance  and 
weakness,  among  a  people  remarkable  for  their  intel- 
lectual degradation  ?  It  would  seem  that  one  might 


252 


CHRISTIANITY. 


positively  answer  in  the  negative.  The  most  rational 
supposition  surely  is,  that  God  supplied  the  fire,  by 
which  his  ministers  kindled  the  light  of  truth,  and 
which  since,  aided  by  a  clearer  revelation,  has  illu- 
minated the  world.  It  was  inspiration,  then,  that 
gave  Isaiah  the  advantage  over  Homer,  and  enabled  a 
man  of  common  mould  to  surpass  the  greatest  human 
genius,  as  much  as  a  giant's  strength  is  superior  to  an 
infant's ;  that  bestowed  on  the  minstrelsy  of  Habak- 
kuk,  a  sublimity  which  no  earth-strung  lyre  can 
rival.  It  was  the  books  of  the  Old  Testament  that 
elevated  the  minds  of  the  Jews  to  the  one  true  God, 
while  the  learned  Egyptians  were  worshippers  of  ser- 
pents and  monkeys,  and  while  the  polished  Greeks 
and  magnificent  Romans,  were  led  captive  by  the  pol- 
luted and  polluting  rites  of  imaginary  divinities. 

To  this  satisfactory  argument,  we  add  the  proofs 
derived  from  prophecy.  We  have  shown  that  the 
power  of  foretelling  events  was  actually  given  to  the 
Jewish  prophets  :  we  know  that  their  predictions  were 
uttered  thousands  of  years  ago,  and  we  have  before  us 
enduring  witnesses  to  their  literal  fulfilment.  What 
higher  evidence  can  be  given  of  divine  inspiration, 
than  a  power  which  enables  man  to  penetrate  the 
depths  of  the  future,  and  reveal  what  is  to  come  to 
pass  ?  This  is  the  attribute  of  God  alone,  and  he 
who  possesses  it,  comes  to  us  with  God's  seal  set  to 
his  commission. 

Thus  the  proofs  of  the  divine  origin  of  the  Old 
Testament  are  threefold — consisting  of  the  testimonies 
of  Christ  and  his  apostles ;  the  sublimity  of  its  doc- 
trines and  its  superiority  to  all  cotemporary  human 


CHRISTIANITY.  253 

productions,  or  human  productions  of  any  age  ;  and 
the  gift  of  prophecy,  possessed  by  many  of  its  writers. 
These  three  strands,  like  those  which  are  twisted 
together  in  a  cable,  render  the  argument  so  strong,  that 
the  human  understanding  may  safely  attach  to  it  its 
anchor  of  faith,  fearing  not  that  the  tempest  shall  ever 
prevail  against  it. 

The  Bible  then  is  true  :  it  is  the  WORD  of  GOD.  It 
is  so  received,  by  the  mass  of  mankind,  among  the 
most  highly  educated  nations  of  the  world.  It  has 
been  attacked,  but  it  has  come  off  triumphant  in  every 
trial.  Investigation  has  only  served  to  multiply  the 
proofs  of  its  veracity.  Time,  which  tests  the  validity 
of  every  institution,  and  which  has  exploded  a  multi- 
tude of  errors  once  entertained  by  mankind,  has  sanc- 
tioned the  scriptures,  and  is  continually  adding  to  the 
evidences  of  their  divine  origin. 

It  is  now  more  than  seventeen  centuries  since  the 
Bible  was  completed.  From  that  time  it  has  been 
received  as  a  revelation  from  Heaven,  by  all  Christians. 
And  how  many  millions  of  individuals  have  found  it 
to  be  all  they  could  hope  or  desire  in  a  revelation  of 
God's  will  !  How  many  millions  have  found  in  its 
sacred  pages  consolations  and  joys  which  the  world 
could  neither  give  nor  take  away  !  We  have  the  tes- 
timony of  millions  of  former  ages,  and  of  millions  now 
on  the  earth,  that  the  Bible  has  proved  itself  to  them, 
in  their  own  experience,  to  be  possessed  of  a  power 
beyond  all  other  writings,  a  power  which  elevates 
them  above  the  fears  or  hopes,  the  joys  or  sorrows,  of 
this  life. 

There  is  another  evidence,  of  a  negative  kind,  un- 


254  CHRISTIANITY. 

folded  by  time,  which  is,  however,  very  strong  in  favor 
of  the  scriptures.  These  were  all  written  long  ago, 
when  science  was  in  its  infancy.  Astronomy,  Geo- 
graphy, Natural  History,  Geology,  now  so  well  under- 
stood even  by  schoolboys,  were  then  but  partially  com- 
prehended. Even  in  the  time  of  Christ,  not  one  third 
part  of  the  surface  of  the  globe  had  been  traversed  by 
man  ;  the  shape  of  this  earth  was  unknown  ;  the  solar 
system  and  its  revolutions  were  not  reached  even  by 
conjecture.  The  animal  races  had  not  been  scientifi- 
cally investigated,  and  the  structure  of  the  earth,  as 
unfolded  by  modern  geology,  had  not  been  the  subject 
of  inquiry. 

Yet  in  respect  to  most  of  these  topics,  we  find  nume- 
rous passages  in  the  Old  and  New  Testament.  How 
is  it  to  be  accounted  for,  that  these  writers  have  been 
preserved  from  running  into  fatal  mistakes,  when  they 
were  discoursing  upon  things  of  which  they,  with  the 
age,  were  ignorant,  but  which  modern  science  has 
unfolded  ?  This  argument  is  of  great  weight.  How 
is  it  possible  to  resist  the  obvious  inference  that  God's 
Spirit  has  presided  over  every  page  of  the  Bible  and 
protected  it  from  fatal  error  ?  If  the  Bible  had  been 
a  mere  human  production,  the  work  as  it  is  of  about 
thirty  different  persons,  it  appears  certain  .that  it  must 
have  contained  statements  that  would  have  been 
plainly  contradicted  by  facts  resulting  from  modern 
discovery. 

DIFFICULTIES  ANSWERED. — If  the  evidence  in  favor 
of  the  Bible  is  thus  so  strong,  why  should  any  person 
reject  it  ?  It  is  said  there  are  difficulties.  There  are 
some  passages  in  one  part  of  the  Bible  which  at  first 


CHRISTIANITY.  255 

sight  seem  to  contradict  others ;  some  parts,  also,  are 
obscure  and  of  doubtful  interpretation.  Beside,  Chris- 
tians, who  believe  the  Bible,  do  not  conform  fully  to 
its  precepts ;  Christians  too  are  divided  as  to  its  mean- 
ing in  certain  important  respects.  Christian  nations, 
like  others,  engage  in  war,  and  are  marked  with  pre- 
valent vices.  Miracles  are  objected  to  as  hard  to  be 
believed. 

These,  and  other  difficulties,  have  often  been  urged 
against  the  scriptures.  We  admit  that  difficulties 
exist ;  but  there  are  four  obvious  answers  to  be  made, 
and  they  ought  to  be  satisfactory. 

The  first  is,  that  all  these  allegations  against  the 
Bible  have  been  fully  and  fairly  investigated,  both  by 
ministers  of  religion  and  by  laymen,  and  have  been 
satisfactorily  reconciled  with  the  substantial  truth  of 
the  sacred  scriptures. 

The  second  is,  that  the  difficulties  suggested  are 
rather  apparent  than  real ;  and  there  is  abundant  evi- 
dence that,  to  a  candid  and  well-disposed  mind,  they 
are  by  no  means  insuperable.  A  person  who  sits 
down  to  the  reading  of  the  scriptures,  with  a  perfect 
willingness  to  receive  the  truth  and  abide  by  the  result, 
is  never  driven  by  these  difficulties  to  infidelity.  In 
religion,  God  may  deal  with  man  as  in  nature.  To 
gain  the  good  things  of  life,  we  must  sow,  and  toil,  and 
cultivate,  else  we  cannot  enjoy  the  harvest.  God  has 
not,  in  this,  taken  away  the  necessity  of  exertion  to 
man,  for  man's  constitution  requires  exertion.  So  in 
religion  God  has  not  taken  away  man's  free  agency. 
He  has  not  revealed  his  will  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
compel  belief,  so  that  in  belief  there  is  no  exercise  of 


256  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  will,  and  therefore  no  virtue.  But  God  has  given 
to  man  good  and  satisfactory  proofs  that  in  the  Bible 
he  has  bestowed  a  revelation  of  his  will,  and  if  man 
will,  as  in  nature,  cultivate  these  proofs  with  a  willing- 
ness to  reap  the  harvest,  he  will  surely  be  blest  with 
success.  Beside,  we  may  believe  that  the  difficulties 
in  religion  have  led  to  investigation,  and  to  an  excite- 
ment of  men's  minds,  favorable  to  an  increase  of  inter- 
est in  the  subject.  Discussion,  like  the  autumn  winds 
which  scatter  the  seeds  of  summer,  has  undoubtedly 
extended  the  knowledge  and  multiplied  the  fruits  of 
religion. 

The  third  answer  to  the  difficulties  suggested,  is, 
that  if  they  are  permitted  to  sweep  away  the  Bible  as 
a  fable  and  a  falsehood,  we  permit  the  weak  to  prevail 
against  the  strong,  and  trample  down  with  mere  doubis, 
a  mass  of  wisdom  never  yet  accumulated  in  favor  of  a 
lie.  We  contradict  the  acknowledged  principles  of 
human  reason,  which  require  us  to  let  our  belief  go 
with  the  scale  in  which  the  weight  of  evidence  pre- 
ponderates. We  deal  with  the  Bible  as  we  do  not 
with  any  other  ancient  writings;  we  believe  in  Taci- 
tus, and  Homer,  and  the  shadowy  forms  of  profane 
antiquity ;  but  we  distrust  the  prophets,  and  the  evan- 
gelists, and  Christ,  and  Paul !  We  listen  to  the  voice 
of  tradition,  when  it  tells  us  of  battles  and  garments 
rolled  in  blood,  but  we  turn  an  ear  of  incredulity  to 
the  Christian  fathers,  to  the  companions  of  the  apostles, 
to  martyrs  who  sealed  their  faith  in  triumph  over  tor- 
tures and  death. 

The  fourth  answer  is,  that  if  the  Bible  is  not  true, 
then  man  has  no  other  revelation  of  God's  will  than 


CHRISTIANITY. 


2-57 


the  dim  light  of  nature ;  man  is  a  mystery  to  himself, 
and  all  around  him  is  mystery.  If  the  Bible  is  false, 
God  has  not  dealt  with  man  as  with  his  other  crea- 
tures. To  the  animal  creation  he  has  given  a  clear 
and  decisive  revelation.  Instinct  is  to  them  a  guide, 
and  it  answers  all  the  purposes  for  which  it  was  in- 
tended. It  comes  fully  up  to  the  wants  of  these  crea- 
tures. Various  kinds  of  water  birds,  as  we  all  know, 
are  under  the  necessity  of  making  long  migrations,  and 
often  are  obliged  to  cross  broad  sheets  of  water. 

«  Who  bade  the  stork;  Columbus-like,  explore 
Heavens  not  his  own.  and  worlds  unknown  before  ? 
Who  calls  the  council,  states  the  certain  day, 
Who  forms  the  phalanx,  and.  who  points  the  way  ?" 

God  has  done  all  that  is  necessary  for  these  feathered 
voyagers  ;  and  yet,  if  the  Bible  is  false,  he  has  ele- 
vated man  to  a  higher  flight,  and  left  him  without 
chart  or  compass,  to  wander  in  hopeless  doubt  and 
unappeasable  anxiety.  Is  such  a  supposition  consist- 
ent with  the  analogy  of  nature  ?  If  God  has  not  made 
provision  to  guide  the  mind  of  man,  when  he  has  filled 
it  with  hopes,  expectations,  and  anticipations  of  immor- 
tality, has  he  not  dealt  by  the  stork  as  he  has  not  by 
man ;  has  he  not  revealed  himself  to  the  feathered 
tribes,  and  shut  himself  from  the  spirit  of  man  ?  Has 
he  not  made  all  things  clear  to  the  animal  world  ;  and 
all  things  mysterious  to  man  ? 

The  difficulties,  then,  in  the  way  of  receiving  the 
scriptures  as  the  word  of  God,  if  permitted  to  over- 
power our  judgment,  only  run  us  into  other  and  more 
formidable  difficulties.  It  ought  to  be  proof  to  us,  if 
they  unsettle  our  faith,  of  a  want  of  proper  balance  in 
o. 


258  CHRISTIANITY. 

our  minds,  and  should  be  regarded  as  a  just  ground 
of  alarm.  The  subject  is  too  serious  for  mistake.  If 
the  Bible  is  true,  God  is  with  us,  and  shall  we  listen  ? 
shall  we  obey  ?  The  true  happiness  of  life,  the  bliss 
of  eternity,  are  involved  in  the  question.  Interests  of 
indescribable  value  are  at  stake.  Shall  we  believe,  or 
take  the  alternative  presented  by  Christ  and  his  apos- 
tles ? 


GOVERNMENT  AND  LAWS. 

ORIGIN  AND  HISTORY  OF  GOVERNMENT. — The  neces- 
sity of  Government  must  have  been  discovered  in  the 
first  human  family.  If  a  child  is  not  restrained,  he 
will  run  into  the  fire,  leap  out  of  the  window,  break 
the  furniture,  injure  his  companions,  or  set  the  house 
on  fire ;  he  must  therefore  be  governed.  The  larger 
children  must  be  prevented  from  striking  and  wounding 
the  younger  ones ;  from  taking  away  their  food,  &c. 
These  too  must  be  governed. 

Without  government,  a  family  would  be  in  a  state 
of  confusion  and  anarchy ;  its  necessity  therefore  must 
have  been  discovered  by  Adam  and  Eve.  The  first 
government  must  consequently  have  been  family  gov- 
ernment, and  this  doubtless  suggested  the  patriarchal 
form,  which  must  have  soon  followed.  When  Adam 
became  a  great-grandfather,  with  numerous  descend- 
ants around  him,  he  was  likely  to  have  an  authority 
founded  in  reverence  and  affection,  and  this  would 
lead  him  to  be  regarded,  and  applied  to  by  the  people 
as  a  judge,  a  counsellor,  and,  in  short,  a  ruler.  Prob- 
ably Adam  was  the  first  patriarch,  and  the  first  politi- 
cal chief. 

In  the  first  ages  of  the  world,  the  people  were  chiefly 
husbandmen,  as  they  had  flocks,  with  which  they  wan- 
dered from  place  to  place.  As  each  party  separated 


GOVERNMENT    AND   LAWS.  f 

from  the  rest,  they  were  likely  to  take  some  experi- 
enced man  with  them,  who  would  be  their  patriarch. 

When  the  tribes  increased  and  extended  their  limits, 
and  the  ties  of  blood  were  forgotten,  they  were  likely 
to  meet  and  contend  for  the  mastery.  In  these  strug- 
gles, the  strong,  the  daring,  or  the  skilful  warrior  was 
likely  to  become  the  leader,  and  at  length  to  receive 
or  usurp  authority.  It  is  probable  that  Nimrod,  the 
mighty  hunter,  was  one  of  those  who  became  the  head 
of  his  tribe,  and,  at  length,  laid  the  foundations  of 
Babylon. 

He  was,  doubtless,  a  very  ambitious  man,  and  ex- 
tended his  domain  over  various  countries  on  and 
around  the  plain  of  Shinar.  He  thus  established  an 
empire  and  became  a  despotic  sovereign.  In  order  to 
increase  his  authority,  and  to  place  his  throne  on  a 
strong  basis,  he  taught  the  people  to  consider  him  as 
ruling  by  divine  right,  and  at  last  claimed  their  wor- 
ship of  himself  as  a  divinity.  He  also,  no  doubt,  made 
the  monarchy  hereditary  in  his  family. 

The  example  of  Nimrod  seems  to  have  been  follow- 
ed by  all  the  sovereigns  of  Assyria,  during  its  continu- 
ance of  1700  years.  The  power  of  the  emperor  or 
king  was  always  absolute,  and  his  claim  to  divine  au- 
thority was  ever  maintained.  No  instance  is  recorded 
in  which  the  right  of  the  sovereign  to  reign  was  ques- 
tioned, nor  are  we  told  of  a  single  individual  in  these 
ancient  days,  who  ever  conceived  the  idea  that  the 
people  had  any  right  to  govern  themselves.  Even 
when  the  government  was  just,  and  consulted  the  hap- 
piness of  the  people,  it  flowed  only  from  the  mercy  of 
the  sovereign. 


GOVERNMENT    AND    LAWS.  261 

The  despotic  system  of  this  first  empire  appears  to 
have  been  followed  throughout  the  rest  of  Asia,  and 
to  some  extent  in  Egypt ;  and  we  observe  no  traces  of 
any  other  ideas  of  government  than  that  of  unlimited 
power  in  the  hands  of  a  king  or  chief  or  the  priests, 
except  among  the  Hebrews.  Persia,  a  vast  empire, 
that  rose  upon  the  ruins  of  the  Assyrian  empire, 
adopted  the  same  despotic  form  of  government,  and  the 
emperor  ruled  in  the  same  arbitrary  manner.  He  had 
unlimited  power  over  the  people.  If  the  king  was 
supposed  to  be  bound  to  govern  wisely  and  righteously, 
his  people  were  equally  bound  to  serve  him  as  sub- 
jects and  slaves. 

About  1500  years  before  Christ,  the  seeds  of  learn- 
ing and  arts  are  wafted  from  Egypt  to  Greece,  and 
here,  after  five  hundred  years,  they  spring  up  and 
flourish.  It  is  in  Greece  that  the  first  clear  ideas  of 
human  rights,  and  of  human  government  to  secure 
them,  are  disclosed  and  attempted  to  be  realized.  Here 
we  see  a  people  rising  to  a  high  degree  of  civilization 
and  power  through  the  influence  of  freedom,  yet, 
for  the  want  of  a  solid  basis  of  religion  and  morality 
in  society,  finally  crumbling  to  pieces  ;  leaving,  where 
a  blaze  of  light  once  sent  forth  its  illumination  far  and 
wide,  but  a  ghastly  heap  of  ruins. 

Rome,  borrowing  something  from  Egypt  and  Greece, 
becomes  a  mighty  empire,  swallowing  up  all  the  great 
kingdoms  around  her,  whether  in  Europe,  Asia,  or 
Africa.  She  grows  rich  on  the  spoils  of  other  nations. 
For  a  time  she  feels  the  fire  of  liberty,  but  this  van- 
ishes amid  the  corruptions  and  looseness  that  pervade 
society ;  and,  finally,  gorged  with  conquest  and  bloat- 


GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS. 

ed  with  •wealth,  she  becomes  the  prey  of  the  Goths 
and  Vandals,  that  come  upon  her,  like  locusts,  from 
the  north  of  Europe. 

Though  Greece  and  Rome  have  long  since  declined, 
yet  many  of  their  political  institutions  have  come  down 
to  our  times  :  of  these  we  have  given  a  brief  sketch. 
There  is  much  in  them  to  admire,  but  they  show  that 
Christianity  was  still  wanting  to  lay  a  sure  founda- 
tion for  liberty,  in  the  responsibility  of  man  to  clear 
and  inflexible  rules  of  justice. 

The  great  lights  of  Greece  and  Rome  having  become 
extinct,  the  Arabs,  or  Saracens,  from  the  seventh  to 
the  twelfth  century,  cultivated  literature  with  success 
in  Asia  and  Africa  ;  but  Europe  continued,  for  this 
whole  period,  in  a  state  of  ignorance  and  barbarism. 
This  is  called  the  dark  age,  during  which  the  institu- 
tions of  Greece  and  Rome  were  forgotten,  and  those  of 
the  northern  nations  of  Europe  became  partially  es- 
tablished over  this  entire  quarter  of  the  globe. 

THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM. — This  system,  so  often  no- 
ticed in  history,  appears  to  have  existed  in  Europe  at 
an  early  date,  among  the  tribes  that  inhabited  Ger- 
many. These,  like  the  Celts  who  first  settled  France, 
Spain,  Britain  and  Ireland,  came  also  from  Asia. 
The  period  of  their  first  emigration  may  have  been, 
and  doubtless  was,  1500  or  2000  years  before  Christ  ; 
but  tribe  after  tribe  continued  to  flow  into  Europe, 
down  to  the  time  of  Rome's  final  overthrow  by  the 
Goths. 

It  is  probable  that  the  German  tribes  brought  their 
feudal  system  of  government  with  them  ;  but  it  doubt- 
less became  much  modified  after  its  establishment  in 


GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS.  263 

Europe.  It  existed  among  the  Franks,  one  of  those 
tribes;  and  these,  making  some  conquests  in  Gaul, 
under  their  king,  Pharamond,  about  A.  D.  420,  and 
finally  settling  in  that  country,  established  it  there. 

From  this  period,  the  feudal  system  is  seen  extend- 
ing itself  in  all  directions,  until,  in  the  course  of  a 
few  centuries,  all  the  great  kingdoms  of  Europe  are 
founded  upon  it  as  the  basis  of  their  political  institu- 
tions. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  these  German  tribes, 
as  well  as  the  other  inhabitants  of  Europe,  were,  at 
the  period  of  which  we  treat,  chiefly  addicted  to  war. 
They  had  flocks,  and  sometimes  settled  down,  for  half 
a  century  or  more,  in  one  spot,  pursuing  agriculture 
in  intervals  of  peace.  But  they  were,  still,  always 
looking  out  for  some  rich  tribe  or  country  which  they 
might  plunder. 

In  this  state  of  things  the  people  required  bold  and 
active  leaders ;  those  who  were  fond  of  strife,  and  ca- 
pable of  ensuring  victory  in  their  bloody  enterprises. 
Accordingly,  we  find  them  generally  under  the  sway 
of  kings  whose  character  was  marked  with  strength 
and  courage,  mingled  with  skill  and  sagacity.  The 
sovereigns  were  always  assisted  by  chiefs,  who  par- 
took of  the  characteristics  of  their  leaders. 

When  one  of  these  tribes  conquered  a  country,  they 
divided  the  spoils  among  themselves.  The  king  took 
by  far  the  largest  portion ;  his  chiefs  took  less,  and 
the  common  soldiers  a  still  smaller  share.  The  lands 
were  wholly  engrossed  by  the  king  and  his  chiefs,  who 
were  called  barons. 

There  was  one  condition  on  which  these  lards  were 


264  GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS. 

held,  which  constituted  the  chief  feature  of  the  feudal 
system.  A  baron  held  his  land  upon  condition  that, 
when  required  by  his  king,  he  should  bring  all  his 
men,  capable  of  bearing  arms,  into  his  service.  The 
people  were  permitted  to  cultivate  the  lands  of  the 
barons  on  the  condition  that  they,  too,  should  do  mili- 
tary as  well  as  other  service  in  behalf  of  their  liege 
lords,  in  case  of  need. 

The  common  people  were  called  serfs,  and  were 
little  more  than  slaves,  being  completely  subject  to  the 
power  of  their  masters.  They  were,  however,  permit- 
ted to  live  upon  the  lands  of  the  chiefs,  and  though 
often  treated  with  cruelty,  and  sometimes  suffering  the 
most  degrading  outrages,  they  were  generally  supplied 
liberally  with  the  necessaries  of  life. 

It  was  about  the  year  480,  that  Clovis  became  king 
of  France,  the  government  being  based  upon  the  feu- 
dal system.  This  monarchy  continued  to  increase  in 
strength,  until  it  became  established,  and  has  ever  since 
been  one  of  the  leading  powers  of  Europe. 

In  Germany  and  the  north  of  Europe,  kingdoms 
continued  to  be  established  on  a  feudal  basis,  from  the 
fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  until  at  last  all  parts  of 
this  quarter  of  the  globe  were  subject  to  feudal  mo- 
narchies, except  Ireland,  Italy,  Greece  and  Turkey. 
In  all  these  latter  countries,  absolute  despotism  on 
the  Asiatic  plan  prevailed,  except  in  Ireland,  where  the 
people  appear  to  have  had  something  like  representa- 
tion in  the  government. 

About  the  fourteenth  century,  arts  revived  and  com- 
merce began  to  flourish  in  Europe.  These  introduced 
a  new  era  of  light,  and  the  vassals  of  the  feudal  lords 


GOVERNMENT    AND   LAWS.  266 

at  last  discovered  that  while  they  were  men,  the  lord 
was  himself  nothing  more  than  a  man.  From  that 
period  there  was  a  gradual,  but  slow  advancement, 
toward  political  truth  and  the  breaking  down  of  feudal 
bondage.  This  progress  was  more  rapid  in  England 
than  in  any  other  country,  but  even  there,  it  crept  with 
reluctant  steps  ;  for  it  was  the  interest,  and  the  en- 
deavor, of  her  kings  and  priests,  desirous  of  still  hold- 
ing their  sway  over  the  people,  to  prevent  them  from 
discovering  their  rights  and  their  real  power. 

The  first  settlers  of  America  came  here,  bringing 
with  them  the  political  discoveries  which  had  been 
made  in  England ;  having  nothing  to  cloud  their 
minds,  they  soon  enjoyed  the  broad  sunshine  of  politi- 
cal liberty,  which  belongs  to  man  as  his  birthright. 
This  glorious  illumination  resulted,  finally,  in  the  sep- 
aration of  the  colonies  from  England  and  the  inde- 
pendence of  America.  The  success  of  our  govern- 
ment in  making  a  people  prosperous  and  happy,  has 
shaken  down  the  French  monarchy,  to  be  rebuilt,  in- 
deed, but  with  no  feudal  attributes.  It  has  done  much 
to  modify  the  institutions  of  England,  and  to  infuse 
principles  of  liberty  into  most  other  monarchies  of 
Europe. 

CIVIL,  GOVERNMENT. — This  is  that  system  of  laws, 
whether  written  or  printed,  or  transmitted  by  custom, 
which  is  established  to  secure  and  promote  justice 
and  order.  Without  government,  as  before  remarked, 
society  would  be  in  a  state  of  anarchy.  In  a  family, 
government  is  necessary ;  it  is  also  necessary  even  in 
a  school-room.  Without  civil  government,  the  rights 
of  man  would  not  be  respected  ;  life  and  property 


266  GOVERNMENT    AND   LAWS. 

would  not  be  safe.  In  such  a  state  of  things,  robbery, 
plunder,  and  murder  would  be  the  common  occurrences 
of  life.  No  attempt  to  obtain  peace  and  order  with- 
out government,  has. ever  succeeded.  Men  are  not 
virtuous,  as  a  mass,  and  therefore  the  power  of  govern- 
ment and  the  force  of  law  are  required. 

In  a  society  where  the  people  possess  absolute  lib- 
erty, the  many  are  rendered  immediately  the  slaves 
of  the  few ;  the  weak  are  subjected  to  the  strong ; 
despotism  is  ever  ready  to  take  possession  of  a  com- 
munity, contending  for  absolute  liberty.  It  is  indis- 
pensable for  the  security  of  order,  justice,  peace  and 
happiness,  that  society  should  form  a  government,  and 
submit  to  the  restraints  it  imposes.  No  other  mode 
has  yet  been  found,  by  which  the  whole  community 
can  enjoy  even  a  moderate  degree  of  liberty  and  hap- 
piness. 

A  man  who  expects  to  enjoy  liberty  without  paying 
for  it,  without  surrendering  a  portion  to  secure  the 
rest,  judges  and  acts  as  foolishly,  as  one  who  wishes 
to  rear  a  crop  of  corn,  but  yet  is  too  niggardly  to 
furnish  the  seed  to  plant. 

Civil  liberty  is  freedom  to  think  and  act  as  we  see  fit, 
except  so  far  as  the  good  of  society  may  require  abridg- 
ment and  restraint.  A  man  has  a  natural  right  to  all 
he  gains  by  his  honest  labor,  but  in  civilized  society 
he  consents  to  be  taxed,  and  thus  part  with  a  portion 
of  his  earnings,  to  sustain  the  government,  on  the 
ground  that  it  is  best  for  the  whole,  and  for  himself 
among  the  number,  to  have  a  government.  A  man 
has  a  natural  right  to  walk  or  ride  where  he  pleases ; 


GOVERNMENT    AND   LAWS.  267 

but  in  civilized  society,  he  consents  to  have  his  abso- 
lute liberty  so  far  abridged,  as  not  to  have  a  right  to 
ride  or  walk  in  his  neighbor's  garden  or  parlor,  or  on 
the  sidewalks  of  a  city. 

A  member  of  society,  in  giving  up  a  part  of  his  lib- 
erty to  secure  the  rest,  acts  on  the  principle  of  insur- 
ance, in  which  a  man  gives  five  or  ten  dollars  to  have 
his  house  or  property  insured  against  fire  for  one 
year.  Government  is  a  kind  of  mutual  insurance 
against  robbery,  plunder,  murder,  and  injustice.  Gov- 
ernment has  been  compared  to  a  partnership,  in  which 
all  have  shares,  each  one  participating  in  the  profit 
and  loss  of  the  concern. 

The  great  problem  of  government  is  to  find  out  the 
utmost  enjoyment  of  liberty,  compatible  with  the  good 
of  society.  Every  law  should  be  considered  in  two 
points  of  view :  first,  how  far  it  abridges  natural  lib- 
erty, and  how  far,  therefore,  it  is  an  evil ;  and  secondly, 
the  good  it  will  do  by  prevention  of  evil,  or  by  the  di- 
rect procurement  of  benefit  to  society.  Every  act  of 
legislation  should  be  tested  in  this  way ;  and  no  act 
should  be  passed,  which,  after  such  an  examination, 
does  not  promise  a  balance  of  good. 

Government  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  a  social  com- 
pact— an  agreement  between  all  the  members  of  com- 
munity. This  is  rather  a  definition  of  what  govern- 
ment should  be,  than  what  it  is.  In  the  United 
States,  where  the  people  make  the  government,  it  may 
be  called  a  social  compact  or  agreement  between  the 
members  of  the  community ;  but  in  Russia,  where 
the  people  at  large  have  nothing  to  do  with  making 
the  government,  it  can  -hardly  bear  this  designation. 


GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS. 


The  government  is  there  forced  upon  the  people,  and 
established  without  their  cooperation. 

It  may  be  indeed  said  that  submission  implies  as- 
sent, and  that  this  submission  makes  the  people  par- 
ties to  the  social  compact  or  agreement ;  but  we  know 
that  in  many  cases,  this  assent  is  extorted  by  military 
power,  or  other  circumstances  which  control  the  free- 
dom of  the  citizens.  There  can  be,  strictly  speaking, 
no  compact  which  is  not  freely  entered  into  by  all  par- 
ties ;  any  government,  therefore,  which  is  founded  in 
force,  which  has  not  the  free  sanction  of  the  people  at 
large,  is  not  a  social  compact.  The  origin  and  bind- 
ing force  of  government  have  been  discussed  in  another 
part  of  this  volume. 

Government,  it  will  be  understood,  embraces  three 
distinct  things  :  1st.  The  system  or  form  of  govern- 
ment, usually  founded  upon  some  constitution,  either 
written  or  sanctioned  by  the  people,  or  established  by 
usage;  2d.  The  statutes  and  laws;  3d.  The  adminis- 
tration, consisting  of  the  officers,  appointed  to  see  that 
the  laws  are  obeyed,  and  the  action  of  the  government 
sustained. 

The  system  or  form  of  government  of  the  United 
States,  is  prescribed  in  a  written  constitution,  sanc- 
tioned by  the  people.  The  statutes  are  the  laws  en- 
acted by  congress,  agreeably  to  this  constitution.  The 
administration  consists  of  the  president  of  the  United 
States,  his  secretaries,  &c. 

The  system  or  form  of  government  of  Massachu- 
setts, or  New  York,  or  Ohio,  or  any  other  of  the  sep- 
arate United  States,  is  also  prescribed  by  a  written 
constitution,  sanctioned  by  the  people  of  the  state. 


GOVERNMENT  AND  LAWS.  269 

The  statutes  consist  of  the  laws  passed  by  the  state 
legislatures  ;  and  the  administration  consists  of  the 
governor  and  his  immediate  officers.  No  law  is  bind- 
ing that  violates  a  constitution,  for  the  makers  of  the 
laws  have  authority  to  act  only  by  that  instrument 

In  Great  Britain,  the  form  of  government  is  pre- 
scribed and  sanctioned  by  usage,  and  not  by  any  par- 
ticular written  document.  The  laws  are  the  statutes 
enacted  by  parliament  and  signed  by  the  king ;  the 
administration  consists  of  the  king  and  his  ministers. 
In  France,  there  is  a  written  constitution ;  the  laws 
are  enacted  by  a  parliament,  and  the  king  with  his 
ministers  are  the  administration.  Many  of  the  sys- 
tems of  Europe  are  similar  to  that  of  France,  while 
others  are  despotic. 

There  is  another  division,  belonging  to  the  govern- 
ments of  most  civilized  countries,  which  distributes 
the  powers  of  the  rulers  into  three  branches :  1st,  the 
legislative,  or  law-making  power :  2d,  the  judicial,  or 
judging  power  ;  and  3d,  the  executive  power. 

THE  LEGISLATIVE  POWER. — This  is  usually  vested 
in  a  certain  number  of  persons  chosen  by  the  people, 
or  a  portion  of  the  people,  for  that  purpose.  These 
are  commonly  divided  into  two  branches,  called  the 
upper  and  lower  house. 

These  two  bodies  of  men  usually  assemble  in  two 
different  rooms  in  the  same  building,  and  discuss 
various  acts,  resolutions,  and  laws.  When  a  law  is 
introduced  into  either  house,  it  is  called  a  bill.  It  is 
read  by  the  speaker  or  president  of  the  house,  and 
after  being  sufficiently  discussed,  the  speaker  or  pre- 
sident puts  it  to  vote ;  that  is,  he  calls  upon  the  mem- 


270  GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS. 

bers  in  favor  of  it  to  say  ay,  and  those  opposed,  to  say 
no. 

If  there  are  more  ayes  than  noes,  the  bill  passes ;  if 
not,  it  is  lost.  The  bill  being  passed,  is  sent  to  the 
other  house.  It  is  there  discussed,  and  voted  upon. 
If  it  passes,  it  goes  to  the  governor  or  president,  or 
king,  and  if  he  signs  it,  it  becomes  a  law. 

This  is  the  usual  mode  of  making  laws,  or  of  legis- 
lation, in  civilized  countries.  In  savage  or  barbarous 
countries,  where  there  are  no  written  laws,  of  course 
there  is  no  legislature  ;  all  power,  legislative,  judicial 
or  executive,  being  absorbed  by  the  king,  or  chief,  and 
his  immediate  officers  and  dependents.  Where  such 
a  state  of  things  exists,  the  people  have  nothing  to  do 
in  forming  the  government.  All  they  are  required  to 
do  is  to  submit. 

THE  JUDICIAL  POWER. — This  is  exercised  by  courts. 
A  court  of  justice  usually  consists  of  one  or  more 
judges,  with  a  sheriff  and  a  jury.  This  being  a  most 
important  branch  of  government,  we  should  be  careful 
to  understand  its  nature,  duties,  and  functions. 

If  a  man  is  charged  with  any  breach  of  law,  he  is 
brought  by  the  sheriff  or  constable  before  the  court — 
the  charge  having  been  made  known  to  him.  He  may 
either  defend  himself,  or  he  may  employ  a  lawyer  to 
defend  him. 

The  case  is  stated  to  the  court,  and  then  witnesses 
are  brought  forward  to  prove  the  facts.  No  witness 
can  testify,  unless  he  takes  an  oath,  or  makes  a  solemn 
declaration  that  he  will  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth, 
and  nothing  but  the  truth. 

The  witnesses  against  the  man  are  examined,  and 


GOVERNMENT    AND   LAWS.  271 

then  the  witnesses  in  his  favor.  Then  the  jury,  which 
consists  of  twelve  men  chosen  from  the  people,  take 
into  consideration  whether  the  man  has  actually  broken 
the  law,  as  charged.  Their  decision  is  called  a  ver- 
dict, and  is  either  guilty  or  not  guilty. 

If  it  is  not  guilty,  the  man  is  acquitted  and  released. 
If  it  is  guilty,  then  the  judge  proceeds  to  pronounce 
the  penalty  of  the  law,  and  this  is  called  the  sentence. 
If  the  sentence  is  death,  the  man  is  executed  by  the 
sheriff;  if  the  sentence  is  imprisonment,  he  is  shut  up 
in  the  jail ;  if  the  sentence  is  a  fine,  he  is  required  to 
pay  the  money. 

THE  EXECUTIVE  POWER. — This  is  placed  in  the 
head  of  the  government,  whose  duty  it  is  to  see  to  the 
execution  of  the  laws.  In  Massachusetts,  New  York, 
Ohio,  and  each  of  the  United  States,  the  executive 
power  is  chiefly  vested  in  a  governor. 

The  executive  power  of  the  United  States  is  vested 
in  a  president,  who  appoints  various  secretaries  to 
assist  him,  and  these  are  called  the  cabinet.  In 
England,  the  executive  power  is  in  the  king,  who 
appoints  various  agents  called  ministers,  and  these 
exercise  the  executive  power  in  the  name  of  the 
king. 

In  this  country,  a  president's  duty  is  to  administer 
the  government,  that  is,  to  carry  it  on :  to  appoint 
various  officers  necessary  for  this  purpose  ;  to  see  that 
the  acts  of  Congress  are  observed  and  fulfilled ;  to 
see  that  the  navy  is  taken  care  of;  to  see  that  the 
army  is  provided  for  and  properly  employed ;  to  see 
that  the  public  property  is  secure  ;  to  see  to  the  gene- 
ral interests  of  the  country,  so  far  as  the  laws  place 


GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS. 

them  under  his  care.  Thus  the  president  carries  on, 
or  administers,  the  government ;  and  therefore  we  call 
him,  with  his  advisers  and  assistants — the  cabinet — 
the  administration.  We  also  sometimes  call  the  acts 
of  a  president,  his  administration.  Accordingly,  we 
speak  of  Washington's  administration,  Jefferson's  ad- 
ministration, &c. 

The  duty  of  a  governor  of  a  state,  is  to  see  that  the 
state  laws  are  executed,  and  that  the  acts  of  the  state 
legislature  are  fulfilled.  He  appoints  various  officers 
to  assist  in  administering  or  carrying  on  the  govern- 
ment, and  he  has  a  general  charge  over  the  public 
interests  of  the  people.  He  is  the  commander-in-chief 
of  the  state  militia,  and  may  call  upon  them  to  aid  in 
executing  the  laws,  in  suppressing  insurrection,  or 
repelling  invasion. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  then,  that  the  legislature 
makes  the  laws ;  the  judiciary,  consisting  of  the  courts, 
interprets  and  applies  them ;  and  the  executive  exe- 
cutes or  fulfils  them.  These  are  the  three  great 
powers  of  government ;  and  wherever  government 
exists,  these  must  exist. 

These  powers  ought  always  to  be  placed  in  different 
hands,  and  to  be  independent  of  each  other ;  for  if  the 
same  person  may  make  the  laws,  interpret  and  apply 
them,  and  at  last  execute  them ;  then  it  will  be  seen 
that  the  powers  of  government  are  so  vested,  that  they 
may  be  used  according  to  the  interest,  passions,  or 
caprices  of  the  ruler.  Such  is  a  government  of  man, 
and  not  a  government  of  laws. 

To  illustrate  this,  suppose  the  president  of  the 
United  States  may  pass  a  law ;  suppose  he  may  also 


GOVBBNMEHT   A1TO   LAWS. 

interpret  that  law,  and  at  last  suppose  he  may  put  it  in 
force — it  is  obvious  that  if  he  can  do  all  this,  he  is  a 
despot,  for  his  power  is  unlimited ;  and  there  is  no 
difference,  in  spirit,  between  our  government,  in  this 
case,  and  that  of  Russia,  Spain,  or  Turkey.  If  one 
man,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  engrosses  the  three 
powers  of  government,  he  is  a  despot ;  and  exactly  in 
proportion  as  the  chief  ruler  acquires  and  exercises 
either  legislative  or  judicial  powers,  he  is  despotic. 

In  despotic  countries,  the  three  powers  of  govern- 
ment are  usually  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  emperor, 
king,  or  chief.  The  sultan  of  Turkey,  for  instance, 
makes  the  laws,  has  them  interpreted  as  he  chooses, 
and  has  them  executed  as  he  chooses.  Such  is  a 
government  of  man,  and  not  a  government  of  laws. 
The  lives  and  property  of  the  people  in  Turkey,  are 
therefore  subject  to  the  whim  or  caprice  of  the  sultan. 

In  some  barbarous  countries,  as  Tripoli,  Morocco, 
Tunis,  &c.,  there  are  no  published  laws,  or  if  there 
are,  they  can  be  set  aside  by  the  chief,  and  new  ones 
be  made  at  his  pleasure.  All  the  powers  of  govern- 
ment are  vested  in  the  chief,  and  he  governs  the  peo- 
ple as  he  pleases.  Such  a  government  is  always 
found  to  be  cruel,  unjust  and  oppressive. 

FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT. — As  we  find  no  countries 
without  government,  so  we  find  no  two  governments 
precisely  the  same.  In  Tartary  and  other  parts  of 
Asia,  and  in  Africa,  there  are  wandering  tribes  who 
have  numerous  horses,  camels,  and  horned  cattle,  with 
which  they  move  from  place  to  place,  in  search  of 
pasturage ;  their  chief  subsistence  being  derived  from 
their  flocks. 


274  GOVERNMENT   AND    LAWS. 

Among  these  people,  some  aged  man,  of  great  ex- 
perience and  worth,  is  usually  the  chief.  He  is  called 
the  patriarch,  which  means  the  father  of  his  people ; 
and  this  idea  furnishes  the  basis  of  his  government ; 
for  he  is  expected  to  rule  over  the  tribe,  as  a  father 
would  govern  his  family.  This  patriarchal  form  of 
government  is  of  great  antiquity,  for  Abraham  was  the 
chief  of  a  pastoral  tribe,  and  was  its  patriarch. 

Another  form  of  government  exists  in  warlike  tribes, 
where  one  warrior,  more  daring,  strong,  or  sagacious 
than  the  rest,  acquires  an  ascendancy,  and  at  last  be- 
comes the  chief.  If  he  be  ambitious  he  usually  goes 
on  to  engross  all  power  in  his  own  person,  and  be- 
comes a  dictator.  This  is  the  government  of  a  mili- 
tary chieftain. 

When  society  becomes  more  advanced,  and  men 
live  in  cities,  the  military  chieftain  usually  builds  him- 
self a  palace,  and  becomes  a  king.  He  wishes  to 
strengthen  and  establish  the  throne  ;  so  he  claims  to 
reign  by  the  appointment  of  God ;  and,  in  order  to 
make  a  strong  impression  upon  the  people,  he  lives  in 
great  state,  affects  to  be  the  favorite  of  heaven,  and 
maintains  that  his  person  should  be  held  sacred.  He 
causes  loyalty,  which  is  love  of  the  person  and  govern- 
ment of  the  king,  to  be  taught  as  a  noble  sentiment, 
and  a  duty,  not  inferior  to  that  of  the  love  of  God. 

Such  a  king,  in  order  to  strengthen  his  government, 
and  perpetuate  his  dynasty,  usually  takes  care  to  pro- 
vide that  his  oldest  son,  or  his  heir,  shall  be  his  suc- 
cessor ;  and  thus  makes  the  crown  hereditary — that  is, 
descending  from  father  to  son,  &c. 

Another  cunning  artifice  of  kings,  is  to  get  the 


GOVERNMENT  AND    LAWS.  275 

priests  and  ministers  of  religion,  as  far  as  he  can,  to 
teach,  advise,  and  command  the  people  to  obey  the 
king,  and  hold  his  person,  government,  and  laws, 
sacred  and  inviolable.  To  attach  the  people  to  his 
interests,  he  usually  establishes  a  state  religion,  and 
requires  the  people  to  conform  to  it.  This  is  sup- 
ported by  the  government,  and  provision  is  made,  by 
the  state,  for  the  priests,  so  as  to  ensure  their  fidelity 
to  the  king. 

This  connection  of  the  government  with  religion, 
for  the  sake  of  establishing  despotic  power  over  the 
people,  is  called  the  union  of  church  and  state.  It  is 
carefully  provided  against  in  our  political  systems. 

When  a  king  is  active  and  ambitious,  he  usually 
carries  on  wars  with  other  countries,  thereby  seeking 
to  extend  his  power,  to  increase  his  wealth,  and  glorify 
his  name.  If  he  is  successful,  he  comes  at  length  to 
unite  several  countries  under  one  monarch,  which, 
thus  united,  are  called  an  empire.  The  king,  under 
such  circumstances,  reigning  over  an  empire,  is  usually 
called  an  emperor.  Thus  the  monarchs  of  Russia 
and  of  China  are  called  emperors,  for  their  dominions 
include  various  countries. 

These  are  some  of  the  simplest  forms  of  govern- 
ment, and  in  former  times,  unlimited  power  was 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  patriarch,  military  chief, 
king,  or  emperor.  They  were  therefore,  and  some 
still  are,  mere  despotisms. 

A  democracy  is  a  government  of  the  people.  In  a 
strict  sense,  it  is  a  government  in  which  the  people  all 
assemble  to  make  laws,  to  judge  criminals,  to  settle 


276  GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS. 

disputes,  and  to  perform  all  the  offices  and  functions 
of  government. 

There  never  has  been,  in  point  of  fact,  a  pure 
democracy;  for,  even  in  ancient  Attica,  where  there 
was  the  nearest  approach  to  it,  among  a  population  of 
400,000  souls,  there  were  but  about  20,000  citizens 
who  had  a  right  to  take  part  in  government ;  and  but 
few  of  these  actually  concerned  themselves  with  it. 
In  our  country,  though  in  form  the  government  is  not 
a  democracy,  the  people  at  large  have  more  influence  ; 
for  here,  one  sixth  of  the  whole  population  are  voters. 

A  republic  is  a  government  in  which  the  people 
have  established  a  constitution,  and  in  which  they 
choose  some  of  their  fellow-citizens  to  make  and 
administer  laws.  Each  of  the  United  States  is  there- 
fore a  republic.  The  government  of  the  United 
States  is  formed  upon  an  union  or  confederation  of 
the  several  states,  and  is  therefore  called  a  federal 
republic.  Texas,  Mexico,  Guatimala,  and  several 
South  American  countries,  have  adopted  republican 
governments. 

The  distinction  between  a  democracy  and  a  repub- 
lic is,  that  in  the  former,  the  people  act  themselves, 
directly,  in  the  business  of  government ;  in  a  republic, 
the  people  choose  men  to  represent  them  and  act  for 
them.  In  a  democracy,  there  is  no  binding  and  con- 
trolling constitution,  for  the  people  are  supreme ;  in  a 
republic,  the  people  prescribe  a  constitution,  and  elect 
men  to  act  under  it.  A  republic  is  therefore  some- 
times called  a  constitutional,  and  also  a  representative 
government. 

An  aristocracy  is  a  government  in  which  the  nobles, 


GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS.  277 

and  those  claiming  certain  privileges  from  their  wealth 
or  rank,  exercise  authority,  create  and  carry  on  the 
government.  An  oligarchy  is  a  government  in  which 
a  few  persons,  distinguished  for  their  rank,  have  the 
supreme  control.  A  monarchy  is  the  government  of 
an  hereditary  king  or  emperor.  Most  of  the  govern- 
ments of  Europe  are  mixed,  and  partake  of  several  of 
these  forms. 

There  are  several  terms  used  in  characterizing  gov- 
ernment, which  it  is  important  to  understand.  A 
despotic  government  is  one  in  which  power  has  no 
check ;  a  tyrannical  government  is  one  in  which  gov- 
ernment is  exercised  arbitrarily,  and  against  law  and 
justice ;  a.  free  government  is  one  in  which  the  liberty 
of  the  citizen  is  protected,  and  the  rights  of  man 
secured. 

An  aristocratic  government  is  one  in  which  a  few 
distinguished  persons  have  a  leading  or  controlling 
influence ;  in  this  sense,  the  government  of  Great 
Britain  is  an  aristocratic  government,  though  the  form 
is  monarchical.  A  democratic  government  is  one  in 
which  the  people  have  a  controlling  influence.  In 
this  sense,  ours  is  a  democratic  government,  though 
the  form  is  republican. 

The  greatest  distinctions  in  government  arise  from 
the  different  parties  in  whose  hands  power  is  placed. 
In  a  democracy,  it  is  directly  in  the  hands  of  the  peo- 
ple ;  in  a  republic,  it  is  indirectly  in  their  hands, 
though  they  depute  it  to  others.  Those  governments 
in  which  the  influence  of  the  people  preponderates, 
are  called  popular ;  those  in  which  the  people  have 
little  or  no  influence  are  despotic. 


278  GOVEHNMENT  AND  LAWS. 

REVIEW  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION  OF  THE  UNITED 
STATES. — As  this  is  the  very  foundation  of  our  na- 
tional government,  we  Americans  cannot  study  it  too 
much,  or  understand  it  too  well.  All  citizens,  espe- 
cially, who  have  a  right  to  vote,  and- who  therefore  use 
an  influence  for  good  or  ill  in  giving  character  to  the 
actual,  practical  government,  or  administration,  that 
springs  out  of  the  Constitution,  should  know  what  it 
means  ;  what  it  requires,  and  what  it  prohibits. 

In  the  first  place,  we  remark  that  this  Constitution 
establishes  a  confederation  or  federation  of  states ; 
hence  it  is  called  a  federal  government :  that  is,  a 
league  or  union  of  several  parties.  It  is  a  partnership, 
in  which  the  several  states,  with  the  people  thereof, 
are  the  parties,  each  having  an  interest,  and  taking  a 
share,  in  the  good  or  ill  that  may  flow  from  the  union. 

It  establishes  a  distribution  of  powers,  as  we  have 
before  stated,  into  three  branches :  Legislative,  con- 
ferred on  Congress ;  Executive,  confided  to  the  Pres- 
ident ;  and  Judicial,  entrusted  to  the  federal  courts. 
It  keeps  these  powers  distinct,  the  design  being  to 
make  one  branch  a  check  on  the  other,  so  as  to  pre- 
vent a  dangerous  degree  of  power  from  sliding  into 
the  hands  of  one  man,  or  one  set  of  men. 

It  makes  Congress  the  source  whence  the  laws  pro- 
ceed ;  it  makes  it  the  duty  of  the  president  to  see  that 
the  laws  are  executed ;  it  makes  it  the  province  of  the 
judges  to  interpret  and  apply  the  laws ;  that  is,  to  de- 
cide cases  of  dispute  which  arise  under  them. 

The  Constitution  takes  away  from  the  individual 
states,  and  gives  to  the  federal  government,  all  power 
to  make  treaties  ;  to  carry  on  war  against  foreign  na- 


GOVERNMENT    AND   LAWS.  279 

tions  ;  to  have  a  standing  army  and  a  navy  ;  to  estab- 
lish post-offices  and  post-roads  ;  to  establish  navigation 
laws,  custom-houses,  light-houses,  and  generally  to 
regulate  and  control  the  great  interests  of  commerce  ; 
to  coin  money ;  in  short,  to  preside  over  those  inter- 
ests which  affect  the  whole  country,  as  a  nation. 

While  the  Constitution  thus  takes  from  the  states 
and  gives  to  the  federal  government,  certain  powers, 
it  leaves  the  states  in  possession  of  all  that  is  not  thus 
expressly  given  away ;  it  leaves  the  states,  still,  as  in- 
dependent republics,  to  carry  on  their  several  govern- 
ments, and  to  manage  all  their  affairs,  as  the  people 
thereof  may  please,  subject  to  no  restraint,  except  what 
the  Constitution  imposes. 

The  Constitution,  applying  to  the  whole  country, 
binds  us  together  as  a  nation,  of  which  a  state  is  only 
a  member.  It  is  the  Constitution,  therefore,  which  is 
likely  to  form  and  fashion  our  national  character  :  it 
is  the  national  government,  founded  on  this,  which  is 
chiefly  regarded  by  foreign  countries ;  for  it  is  the 
federal  government,  only,  which  makes  treaties  and 
holds  official  intercourse  with  other  nations. 

The  Constitution  is  the  great  bulwark  of  our  liber- 
ties. Were  it  not  for  this,  what  would  prevent  two 
states  from  being  involved  in  constant  war?  What 
would  prevent  a  small  state,  like  Rhode  Island  or 
Connecticut,  from  being  oppressed  by  a  powerful  state, 
like  New  York?  What  would  protect  a  citizen  of 
one  state,  passing  into  another,  from  unjust  taxation, 
imprisonment,  or  oppression,  were  it  not  for  the  Con- 
stitution ? 

From  these  considerations,  it  is  clear  that  every 


GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS. 

person  in  the  United  States  has  a  deep  interest  in  the 
Constitution,  which  establishes  a  union  of  the  states,  for 
the  good  of  all.  Every  citizen,  therefore,  is  bound  by 
a  regard  to  his  own  interest,  and  duty  to  his  country- 
men, to  seek  to  perpetuate  it ;  to  obey  its  laws,  to 
maintain  its  institutions,  and  to  carry  it  into  effect, 
according  to  the  wise  and  patriotic  intention  of  its 
framers. 

CONGRESS. — This  body,  as  before  stated,  is  divided 
into  two  houses,  the  Senate  and  House  of  Represent- 
atives. They  hold  their  sessions,  separately,  in  two 
splendid  rooms  in  the  Capitol  at  Washington. 

Senators  are  chosen  for  six  years ;  there  are  two 
from  each  state  ;  of  course  there  are  fifty-two  members. 
A  person  cannot  hold  a  seat  in  the  Senate,  who  is 
under  thirty  years  of  age.  Beside  its  legislative  pow- 
ers, the  Senate  have  the  privilege  of  ratifying  or  reject- 
ing treaties  made  by  the  President,  or  persons  nomi- 
nated by  him  to  office. 

The  members  of  the  House  of  Eepresentatives  must 
be  twenty-five  years  old :  they  are  chosen,  by  the  peo- 
ple of  the  states  they  represent,  for  two  years.  Ac- 
cording to  the  present  apportionment,  which  is  seventy 
thousand  six  hundred  and  eighty  inhabitants  to  one 
representative,  the  number  of  representatives  is  two 
hundred  and' twenty-seven. 

The  House  of  Representatives  have  the  sole  power 
of  impeachment ;  but  the  person  impeached  must  be 
tried  by  the  Senate.  The  pay  of  the  members  of  both 
branches  of  Congress  is  eight  dollars  a  day,  while  at 
Washington ;  and  twenty  dollars,  as  fees  of  travel,  for 
every  hundred  miles. 


GOVERNMENT   AND    LAWS.  281 

THE  ADMINISTRATION. — The  Constitution  is  but  a 
series  of  rules  or  principles.  To  carry  these  into 
effect,  officers  must  be  appointed.  Upon  the  char- 
acter of  these  persons,  the  nature  of  the  government 
greatly  depends :  for  as  these  are  good  or  bad,  the 
public  affairs  will  be  wisely  or  unwisely  managed.  A 
foolish  man  can  hardly  act  otherwise  than  foolishly, 
however  excellent  may  be  the  laws  which  he  is  called 
upon  to  administer. 

However  good  our  Constitution  may  be,  therefore, 
we  cannot  expect  good  practical  government,  unless  we 
put  good  men  into  office.  Even  a  good  tool  will  not  cut 
well  of  itself:  in  bad  or  incompetent  hands,  it  will 
often  do  mischief.  Our  fathers,  then,  in  giving  us  an. 
admirable  Constitution,  left  us  only  a  good  tool  to  work 
with,  and  we  must  take  the  responsibility  of  seeing 
that  it  passes  into  the  hands  only  of  those  who  are 
skilful  and  honest ;  those  who  know  what  is  right,  and 
those  who  love  what  is  right. 

The  President  of  the  United  States  is  the  chief  officer 
of  the  government ;  we  look  upon  him,  accordingly, 
as  especially  called  to  administer  the  laws.  We, 
therefore,  call  the  President,  with  his  advisers,  the 
Administration.  Thus,  as  before  remarked,  we  de- 
nominate Washington's  period  of  government,  Wash- 
ington's administration,  &c. 

THE  PRESIDENT,  &c. — The  President  holds  his  of- 
fice for  four  years,  and  has  a  salary  of  $25,000  a  year. 
He  is  commander-in-chief  of  the  army,  the  navy,  and 
the  militia  of  the  United  States,  when  in  actual  ser- 
vice ;  he  signs  or  vetoes  bills  passed  by  Congress ;  and 
receives  ambassadors  and  other  public  ministers.  He 


282  GOVERNMENT   AND   LAWS. 

also,  by  and  with  the  consent  of  the  Senate,  appoints 
the  chief  naval,  military  and  civil  officers  of  the  gov- 
ernment, and  signs  their  commissions. 

In  addition  to  all  this,  the  President  is  charged  with 
the  general  welfare  of  the  country,  and  the  execution 
of  the  laws  ;  and  he  is  required,  from  time  to  time,  to 
lay  before  Congress  his  views  of  public  affairs. 

The  Vice  President  is  president  of  the  Senate,  with 
a  salary  of  $6,000  a  year.  In  case  of  the  death  of  the 
President,  he  succeeds  to  his  office. 

The  President  is  assisted  by  several  persons,  who 
are  his  advisers.  These  consist  of  the  Secretary  of 
State,  Secretaries  of  the  Treasury,  of  the  Navy,  and 
of  War ;  the  Attorney-General  and  the  Postmaster- 
General. 

All  these  persons  live  in  Washington,  near  the  Pres- 
ident, and  are  frequently  called  upon  by  him  to  fur- 
nish him  information,  and  to  offer  him  their  counsel 
and  assistance.  They  are  generally  selected  from 
among  the  ablest  men  in  the  nation,  and  each  one  is 
supposed  to  be  especially  fitted,  by  his  character  and 
former  pursuits,  for  the  particular  place  assigned  to 
him. 

The  President  not  only  calls  upon  these  persons 
separately  for  assistance,  as  occasion  may  require,  but 
once  or  twice  a  week  they  all  meet  together  at  his 
house.  When  assembled,  they  form  the  Cabinet,  and 
when  met  for  consultation,  they  are  called  the  Cabinet 
Council. 

The  cabinet  being  regarded  as  personal  and  confi- 
dential advisers  of  the  President,  are  expected  to  enter- 
tain the  same  political  opinions  as  the  President  him- 


GOVERNMENT  AND  LAWS.  283 

self,  and  are  usually  selected  from  the  President's  po- 
litical party.  In  this  case,  as  in  the  other,  the  Pres- 
ident nominates  the  members  of  the  cabinet,  and  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States,  in  secret  session,  confirm 
or  reject  them,  as  they  please.  If  rejected,  the  Pres- 
ident makes  other  nominations. 

A  large  and  responsible  part  of  the  duty  of  the 
President  consists  in  his  nomination  of  persons  to  of- 
fice, including  the  secretaries,  judges,  ambassadors, 
charges,  consuls,  custom-house  officers,  naval  and 
military  officers,  postmasters,  land  agents,  and  various 
other  persons  in  the  employ  of  the  government.  The 
number  of  officers  he  is  called  upon  to  nominate, 
amounts,  as  before  stated,  to  many  thousands.  In  all 
important  appointments,  it  is  necessary  that  the  Senate 
should  confirm  the  nomination,  or  the  person  does  not 
hold  his  place. 

The  secret  sessions  of  the  Senate,  in  which  they 
discuss  the  nominations  of  the  President,  are  called 
Executive  Sessions,  because  they  then  attend  to  execu- 
tive business.  The  characters  of  persons  nominated 
are  freely  discussed.  Sometimes  what  takes  place 
during  the  discussions,  transpires,  and  sometimes  it 
remains  under  the  seal  of  secrecy. 

The  secretaries  are  in  England  called  ministers.  In 
that  country,  they  have  usually  a  seat  in  parliament, 
and  take  a  leading  part  in  the  legislation  of  the  coun- 
try ;  but  in  the  United  States,  the  executive  depart- 
ment is  more  completely  separated  from  the  legislative, 
and  the  secretaries,  or  ministers,  or  members  of  the  cab- 
inet, have  no  seat  in  either  branch  of  Congress.  The 
annual  salaries  of  the  secretaries  are  $6,000  each. 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  * 

DEFINITIONS. — Political  Economy  is  the  science 
which  teaches  the  manner  in  which  nations  and  indi- 
viduals acquire  wealth. 

Wealth  is  anything  which  is  capable  of  gratifying 
our  desires,  and  of  procuring  for  us,  by  exchange,  some 
other  object  of  gratification.  Some  objects  are  capable 
of  gratifying  our  desires;  but  are  incapable  of  procuring 
for  us  any  other  objects  in  exchange.  Such  are  air, 
the  light  of  the  sun,  and,  commonly,  water.  Others 
are  capable,  not  only  of  gratifying  our  desires,  but  of 
procuring  for  us  other  objects  in  exchange.  Such  are 
fuel,  cloth,  salt,  wheat,  iron,  money,  &c.  It  is  only 
articles  of  this  latter  class  that  are  denominated  wealth. 

Of  Value. — That  quality  in  any  object  which  ren- 
ders it  capable  of  gratifying  our  desires,  is  called  its 
value.  Thus,  the  value  of  air  consists  in  its  power  to 
support  life  ;  the  value  of  water  consists  in  its  capa- 
city to  slake  our  thirst,  and  its  utility  in  the  various 
arts.  The  value  of  fuel  consists  in  its  capacity  to  im- 
part to  us  warmth,  &c.  When  this  value  is  con- 
sidered simply  as  a  capacity  to  gratify  human  desire, 

*  We  have  abridged  this  article  from  "  Chambers'  Informa- 
tion for  the  People,"  for  which  the  author  was  largely  indebted 
to  Dr.  Way  land's  excellent  work  entitled  "Elements  of  Politi- 
cal Economy." 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY. 

it  is  called  intrinsic  value.  When  it  is  considered  as 
a  capacity  to  procure  for  us  something  else  in  ex- 
change, it  is  called  exchangeable  ralue.  Things 
which  are  every  where  abundant,  and  which  require 
no  aid  from  human  labor  to  render  them  capable  of 
gratifying  our  desires,  have  only  intrinsic  value.  This 
is  the  case  with  air,  the  light  of  the  sun,  &c. 

On  the  other  hand,  things  which  derive  their  power 
to  gratify  our  desires  from  human  labor,  and  which 
are  found  only  in  particular  places,  have  always  ex- 
changeable value. 

The  reason  why  these  latter  have  exchangeable 
value  is  evident.  If  I,  by  my  labor,  give  value  to 
something  which  had  no  value  before,  I  have  a  right 
to  the  thing  in  which  this  value  resides.  And,  inas- 
much as  I  have  bestowed  my  labor  upon  it,  I  will  not 
part  with  it  for  nothing.  Hence,  if  any  one  wants  it,  he 
must  offer  me  in  exchange  something  on  which  he  has 
bestowed  a  similar  amount  of  labor,  or  else  something 
which  I  could  not  otherwise  procure,  without  bestow- 
ing upon  it  an  equal  or  a  greater  amount  of  labor. 
Thus,  if  I  have  spent  an  hour  in  catching  a  fish,  I 
will  not  give  it  to  my  neighbor  for  nothing,  or  for  air, 
or  sunlight,  which  I  can  have  for  nothing.  I  will  only 
give  it  for  something  which  I  could  not  procure  with 
less  than  an  hour's  labor.  And  if  he  offer  me  some- 
thing which  I  could  procure  with  half  an  hour's  labor, 
I  shall  not  exchange,  but  shall  prefer  to  procure  for 
myself  the  article  which  he  offers  me. 

And  hence  we  see  that  when  men  exchange  the 
products  which  they  have  procured  with  each  other, 
they  exchange  labor  for  labor.  Thus,  when  men  ex- 


286  POLITICAL    ECONOMY. 

change  silver  for  gold,  they  give  a  much  larger  amount 
of  silver  than  of  gold,  because  it  requires  much  more 
labor  to  procure  gold  than  it  does  to  procure  silver. 
They  give  a  much  larger  amount  of  iron  in  exchange 
than  of  silver,  because  the  labor  of  procuring  silver  is 
'  much  greater  than  the  labor  of  procuring  iron. 

And  hence  we  see  that  when  men  exchange  with 
each  other,  the  exchangeable  value  of  anything  will 
be,  in  general,  as  the  labor  which  it  costs  to  procure 
it.  Hence  the  cost  of  anything,  or  its  natural  price, 
is  the  labor  which  is  necessary  to  produce  it. 

This,  however,  is  liable  to  accidental  and  temporary 
fluctuation.  Sometimes  a  much  larger  quantity  of  a 
given  product  is  created  than  is  wanted.  In  this  case, 
the  owner,  in  order  to  induce  persons  to  buy,  will  offer 
it  at  a  less  price  than  the  cost,  because  he  had  rather 
sell  it  at  a  loss  than  lose  it  altogether.  When,  in  this 
case,  the  supply  is  too  abundant,  the  exchangeable 
value  will  fall.  On  the  other  hand,  when  not  enough 
of  any  given  product  has  been  created  to  supply  the 
wants  of  the  community,  the  buyers,  rather  than  be 
deprived  of  it,  will  overbid  each  other,  and  thus  will 
pay  more  than  the  natural  price  :  that  is,  when  the 
demand  is  unusually  great,  the  exchangeable  value 
will  rise.  These  causes  of  fluctuation  can,  however, 
exist  but  for  short  periods,  and  the  constant  tendency 
of  the  exchangeable  value  of  anything  will  be  towards 
the  cosi  of  the  labor  necessary  to  create  it. 

Of  Production. — Production  is  the  act  by  which  we 
give  to  any  object  its  particular  value,  or  its  particular 
capacity  to  gratify  human  desire.  Man  can  neither 
create  nor  annihilate  anything ;  he  can  only  change 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  2S7 

the  form  of  that  which  is  created.  We  cannot  create 
iron,  but  we  can  extract  it  from  the  ore ;  we  can  then 
change  it  into  steel ;  we  can  change  a  lump  of  steel 
into  knifeblades.  Each  of  these  acts,  by  which  a  par- 
ticular value  is  given  to  the  iron,  is  called  an  act  of 
production. 

The  substance  to  which  any  value  has  thus  been 
given,  is  called  a  product. 

Capital. — The  term  capital  is  applied  to  the  mate- 
rial before  it  has  been  changed  by  labor  into  a  pro- 
duct ;  to  the  instruments  with  which  this  change  is 
effected ;  to  the  means  of  subsistence  by  which  the 
laborer  is  supported ;  and  also  to  the  product  which 
results  from  the  application  of  labor  to  the  raw  ma- 
terial. 

Of  Exchange. — Every  man  finds  it  for  his  interest 
to  labor  exclusively  at  one  kind  of  production.  Thus, 
we  see  that  every  man  has  his  own  trade  or  profes- 
sion. But  a  man  wants  a  great  many  other  things 
besides  those  which  he  produces  himself.  The  shoe- 
maker produces  shoes  ;  but  he  cannot  eat,  or  drink,  or 
clothe  himself  with  shoes'.  Hence  he  must  exchange 
his  shoes  for  those  articles  which  he  needs.  Every 
other  man  is  in  the  condition  of  the  shoemaker.  And 
hence  we  see  that  an  immense  amount  of  exchanges 
must  be  made  every  day  in  every  civilized  community. 

Distribution. — Not  only  does  every  man  work  at  a 
particular  trade — it  is  commonly  the  case  that  a  great 
many  men  must  labor  together  in  order  to  create  a 
particular  product.  Every  penknife,  nay,  every  pin, 
goes  through  the  hands  of  several  workmen,  and  re- 
ceives a  portion  of  its  value  from  every  one  of  them. 


POLITICAL   ECONOMY. 

When  the  product  has  been  created,  every  one  is  en- 
titled to  his  share  of  it.  The  principles  by  which  this 
division  of  the  profits  is  made,  is  called  by  political 

»  economists  distribution. 
Consumption. — Every  product,  after  it  has  been 
created,  is  put  to  some  purpose.  Sometimes  it  is  used 
for  the  creation  of  some  other  product ;  as  wheat, 
when  it  has  been  raised,  is  used  for  the  purpose  of 
making  flour ;  or,  again,  it  may  be  used  for  the  simple 
purpose  of  satisfying  human  desire,  as  bread,  when  it 
is  eaten,  is  used  to  appease  our  hunger.  The  de- 
struction of  values  in  this  manner  is  called  consumption. 

The  whole  subject  of  Political  Economy  may  there- 
fore be  comprehended  under  these  four  divisions — 
Production,  Exchange,  Distribution,  Consumption. 

OF  PRODUCTION. — This  is  the  act  by  which  we 
confer  upon  any  object  a  value  which  it  did  not  pos- 
sess before ;  or  it  is  the  application  of  labor  to  capital 
for  the  creation  of  a  product. 

OF  CAPITAL. — Capital  is  the  material  which  is  to 
be  united  with  industry  for  the  creation  of  a  product, 
or  the  instruments  which  are  used  in  the  act  of  pro- 
duction, or  the  necessaries  and  conveniences  by  which 
the  health  of  the  laborer  is  sustained.  Sometimes  the 
laborer  finds  the  material  in  its  native  state,  as  the 
miner  finds  the  ore  or  the  coal  in  its  native  bed ;  most 
commonly,  however,  he  receives  it  from  some  one  who 
has  already  conferred  upon  it  some  value,  and  it  is 
his  occupation  to  confer  upon  it  another. 

The  forms  of  capital  are  as  various  as  the  different 
occupations  of  men.  The  material  of  the  farmer  is 
seed,  manure,  animals,  &c.;  that  of  the  manufacturer, 


POLITICAL   ECONOMY.  289 

cotton,  wool,  iron,  leather,  &c. ;  and  that  of  the  mer- 
chant, the  various  substances  in  which  he  traffics. 

The  instruments  with  which  these  producers  labor 
are  very  various.  The  fanner  uses  ploughs,  harrows, 
and  carts  ;  the  manufacturer,  saws,  hammers,  and 
spinning  and  weaving  machines ;  and  the  merchant, 
ships,  boats,  locomotives,  Sec. 

Besides  these,  all  men  require  for  their  sustenance 
food,  clothing,  shelter,  and  the  various  conveniences 
of  life.  Viewed  in  this  light,  all  capital  may  be  in- 
cluded under  one  or  the  other  of  these  classes. 

Changes  of  Capital. — Inasmuch  as  the  labor  of 
men  is  so  universally  employed  in  changing  capital 
having  one  form  of  value  to  capital  having  another 
form  of  value,  capital  must  be  incessantly  undergoing 
changes.  It  is  no  matter  how  many  changes  it  under- 
goes, if  its  value  be  by  every  change  sufficiently  in- 
creased to  pay  for  the  labor  which  it  cost  to  effect  it. 

Increase  of  Capital. — If  a  given  material  undergo  a 
change  by  which  its  value  is  increased,  then  there  is 
an  increase  of  capital  equal  to  the  difference  between 
its  former  and  its  present  value.  "We  say  equal  to  the 
difference,  because,  in  the  creation  of  one  value,  another 
value  is  always  destroyed,  and  we  are  benefited, 
therefore,  only  by  the  superior  amount  of  value  which 
we  possess  over  that  which  we  have  consumed  to  pro- 
duce it.  Thus,  the  fanner  consumes  seed,  manure, 
labor,  sustenance,  in  the  production  of  a  crop.  He 
has  changed  one  kind  of  capital  for  another,  and  he  is 
enriched  by  as  much  as  his  crop  is  of  greater  value 
than  all  that  it  cost  him  to  produce  it. 

Capital  which  is  undergoing  change  by  which  its 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY. 

value  is  increased,  or  which  is  yielding  an  annual  in- 
come, is  called  productive  capital.  That  which  is 
lying  idle,  and  neither  producing  anything  nor  increas- 

rg  in  value,  is  called  unproductive  capital. 
Money  forms  a  small  but  very  important  part  of  the 
capital  of  all  civilized  nations.  The  use  of  money  is 
to  enable  us  the  more  easily  to  make  exchanges  with 
each  other.  That  it  forms  but  a  small  part  of  the 
capital  of  a  country,  is  evident  from  the  fact,  that  a 
very  small  part  of  the  wealth  of  any  individual  con- 
sists of  money.  What  is  true  of  all  the  separate  indi- 
viduals of  a  community,  must  be  true  of  the  whole 
community  collectively. 

Of  Fixed  and  Circulating  Capital. — That  capital 
from  which  the  owner  derives  profit  by  changing  its 
form  or  place,  is  called  circulating  capital ;  while  the 
various  instruments  which  he  uses  to  produce  this 
change,  and  from  the  use  of  which  he  derives  profit, 
are  fixed  capital.  Thus,  the  wheat  and  the  manures 
of  the  farmer,  the  wrool  and  raw  cotton  of  the  manu- 
facturer, are  their  circulating  capital ;  the  ploughs, 
harrows,  barn,  and  land  of  the  one,  the  machinery  and 
buildings  of  the  other,  are  their  fixed  capital. 

There  is  a  constant  tendency  in  a  prosperous  condi- 
tion of  society,  to  change  circulating  into  fixed  capital. 
The  farmer  sells  his  wheat,  and  with  the  produce 
buys  more  land  and  better  tools,  or  erects  better  fences 
and  barns.  The  manufacturer,  with  his  profits  of  this 
year,  enlarges  his  manufactory  ;  and  thus,  in  the  pro- 
gress of  society,  vast  sums  are  annually  invested  in 
roads,  canals,  manufactories,  and  various  means  of 
practical  improvement. 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  291 

The  beneficial  result  of  this  tendency  is  easily  seen. 
Fixed  capital  is  but  slowly  consumed,  and  hence  the 
wealth  of  each  generation  is  transmitted  to  the  next ; 
and,  year  after  year,  a  country  becomes  better  and 
better  provided  with  the  means  for  furnishing  itself 
with  all  the  conveniences  of  life.  The  superior  con- 
veniences which  we  enjoy  in  this  country,  over  those 
enjoyed  by  the  aborigines  who  long  ago  occupied  it, 
are  owing  entirely  to  the  amount  of  fixed  capital 
which  covers  the  soil.  It  is  thus  that  the  results  of 
the  industry  of  men  are  transmitted  to  their  posterity, 
and  that  the  men  of  any  one  age  are  enabled  to  reap 
advantage  from  the  skill  and  good  conduct  of  the  men 
of  all  ages  who  have  gone  before  them. 

OF  INDUSTRY. — Industry  is  human  exertion  of  any 
kind  employed  for  the  creation  of  value. 

If  we  consider  the  different  kinds  of  value  which  it 
is  in  the  power  of  man  to  create,  we  shall  see  that 
human  industry  may  be  employed  in  three  different 
ways.  Matter  may  be  changed  in  its  elementary  form, 
as  it  is  by  the  farmer  when  he  plants  seed  and  reaps 
an  increase  ;  or  in  its  aggregate  form,  as  when  a  car- 
penter fashions  a  piece  of  furniture  out  of  a  log ;  or  in 
its  place,  as  when  a  sailor  carries  it  from  one  country 
to  another.  The  ultimate  design  of  all  human  indus- 
try employed  in  production  is  to  effect  either  one  or 
the  other  of  these  results.  They  are  frequently  deno- 
minated agricultural,  manufacturing,  and  commercial 
industry. 

It  is  evident  that  every  one  of  these  kinds  of  labor 
is  absolutely  necessary,  in  order  to  promote  the  con- 
venience and  happiness  of  man ;  and  also  that  neither 


292  POLITICAL    ECONOMY. 

one  could  prosper  without  the  aid  of  the  others.  Were 
there  no  agricultural  labor,  every  body  would  starve. 
Were  there  no  manufacturing  labor,  every  body  would 
be  chilled  to  death.  Were  there  no  labor  employed 
in  transporting  commodities  from  place  to  place,  no 
one  could  enjoy  any  convenience  except  what  he  had 
produced  himself;  that  is,  though,  with  great  industry 
and  suffering,  a  few  persons  might  live,  yet  they 
would  be  but  few,  and  these  few  would  be  miserably 
poor.  Hence,  we  see  how  unwise  it  is  for  any  jeal- 
ousy to  exist  between  the  fanner,  the  mechanic,  and 
the  merchant.  All  are  equally  necessary  to  each  one, 
and  each  one  is  necessary  to  both  the  others. 

But  some  men  are  neither  mechanics,  nor  farmers, 
nor  merchants  ;  they  are  students,  or  philosophers,  or 
lawyers,  or  physicians,  or  clergymen.  All  of  these 
men,  however,  are  necessary  to  society,  in  ways  that 
must  be  generally  obvious,  and  are  as  well  entitled  to 
their  rewards  as  any  other  useful  class. 

Of  Division  of  Labor. — A  little  reflection  will  sat- 
isfy us  that  the  productiveness  of  human  labor  may 
be  greatly  increased,  first,  by  discovering  the  vari- 
ous qualities  of  things,  or,  specially,  those  qualities 
by  which  we  are  capable  of  creating  force ;  and, 
secondly,  by  those  various  contrivances  by  which  the 
force  thus  created  may  be  directed  and  applied.  We 
must  particularly  notice  one  other  source  of  increased 
productiveness,  viz.  division  of  labor — for  its  results 
are,  in  many  cases,  exceedingly  striking. 

Division  of  labor,  in  general,  means  employing  one 
individual  upon  one  kind  of  labor,  instead  of  employ- 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  293 

ing  the  same  individual  upon  several  kinds  of  labor. 
If  we  reflect,  we  shall  see  that  this  circumstance  forms 
one  of  the  great  differences  between  savage  and  civi- 
lized nations,  A  savage  does  for  himself  whatever  he 
requires  to  have  done.  He  is  his  own  philosopher, 
inventor,  and  operative ;  his  own  farmer,  butcher, 
baker,  shoemaker,  tailor,  carpenter,  &c.  And  the 
result  is,  that  he  is  ignorant,  hungry,  shelterless,  al- 
most naked;  and  that  he  continues,  age  after  age, 
without  making  any  improvement.  On  the  contrary, 
civilized  men  divide  these  various  occupations,  so  that 
one  man  labors  wholly  in  one,  and  another  man  labors 
wholly  in  another  employment ;  and  the  result  is,  that 
civilized  men,  without  laboring  more  than  savages, 
easily  obtain  convenient  shelter,  clothing,  food,  and  all 
the  necessaries  of  life. 

But  still  more.  Every  one  who  observes  any  me- 
chanical process,  observes  that  it  consists  of  several 
parts.  For  instance,  in  order  to  make  a  knife,  the 
blade  must  be  formed  and  then  polished,  the  handle 
must  be  formed  in  several  pieces,  the  rivets  must  be 
made  to  connect  these  several  pieces  together ;  and 
after  these  several  pieces  have  been  formed  and  pre- 
pared for  each  other,  they  must  be  united  together  into 
a  knife.  Now,  what  is  commonly  called  division  of 
labor  in  political  economy,  consists  in  so  apportioning 
this  work,  that  one  person  shall  labor  at  only  one  part 
of  any  process. 

The  division  of  labor  in  this  manner  is  found  to 
have  a  much  greater  effect  upon  the  productiveness  of 
human  industry  than  could  possibly  have  been  sup- 
posed. Every  man  who  labors  at  a  trade  adopts  this 


POLITICAL   ECONOMY. 

plan  in  part.  If  a  cabinet-maker  have  a  dozen  tables 
to  make,  he  will  make  all  the  legs  of  all  the  tables  at 
once,  then  all  the  covers,  &c.,  and  when  all  have  been 
prepared,  he  will  put  them  all  together.  And  if  seve- 
ral men  were  to  unite  and  make  nothing  but  tables, 
and  each  one  perform  but  one  part  of  the  labor,  they 
could  make  a  great  many  more  tables  in  a  given  time, 
than  if  each  one  made  a  whole  table. 

The  reasons  for  this  increased  productiveness  are 
several : — 

1.  It  saves  the  loss  of  time  and  skill,  which  must 
result  from  frequently  passing  from  one  occupation  to 
another.     After  a  man  has  labored  for  some  time  at 
one  thing,  he  is  said  to  have  "  got  his  hand  in,"  and 
he  performs  the  operation  with  ease  and  skill.     If  he 
turns  to  a  different  occupation,  "  his  hand  is  out,"  and 
he  cannot  perform  it  so  well.     Hence,  all  the  time 
consumed  in  acquiring  the  habit  is  lost. 

2.  When  a  variety  of  operations  is  to  be  performed 
by  the  same  individual,  he  must  frequently  adjust  his 
tools,  or  pass  from  the  use  of  one  kind  of  tools  to  the 
use  of  another.     This  occasions  a  great  waste  of  time. 
By  performing  the  same  operation  continuously,  the 
same  tools  with  the  same  adjustment  will  answer  the 
same  purpose  perpetually.     This  is  specially  the  case 
where  the  adjustment  of  tools  requires  not  only  time 
but  expense,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  use  of  the  black- 
smith's furnace.     If  the  smith  heat  it,  and  leave  it  for 
the  purpose  of  doing  some  other  work,  all  the  fuel  con- 
sumed after  he  leaves  it,  as  well  as  that  necessary  to 
bring  it  again  to  its  proper  temperature,  is  lost. 

3.  When  men  confine  themselves  to  a  single  opera- 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  295 

tion,  they  acquire  a  degree  of  dexterity  which  could  be 
acquired  in  no  other  manner.  A  man  who  only  occa- 
sionally makes  nails,  will  make  but  eight  hundred  or 
a  thousand  in  a  day  ;  while  a  boy  who  has  never  done 
anything  else,  will  make  upwards  of  two  thousand 
three  hundred  in  a  day. 

4.  Division  of  labor  suggests  the  invention  of  tools 
and  machines,  by  which  labor  may  be  rendered  still 
more  productive.    As  soon  as  an  operation  is  analyzed 
into  its  simple  processes,  it  is  comparatively  easy  to 
contrive  some  way  in  which  to  perform  either  one  or 
all  of  these  processes  by  a  machine.     It  would  have 
required  great  skill  to  construct  a  machine  for  making 
nails  before  the  process  was  analyzed ;  but  let  it  be 
divided  into  rolling,  cutting,  and  heading,  and  it  is 
comparatively  easy  to  construct  instruments  by  which 
each  of  these  processes  may  be  accomplished. 

5.  There  is  great  diversity  in  the  talent  required 
for  performing  the  various  parts  of  a  process.     Some 
parts  of  the  operation  require  great  dexterity,  and  a 
long  course  of  education ;  others  can  be  performed  by 
women,  and  even  by  children,  with  very  little  training. 
Some  require  labor  worth  seven  or  eight  shillings,  and 
others  can  be  executed  by  labor  worth  no  more  than  a 
few  cents  per  day.     Now,  without  division  of  labor, 
all  the  processes  must  be  performed  by  labor  at  the 
highest  price.     By  division  of  labor,  the  manufacturer 
can  employ  just  the  amount  and  just  the  kind  of  labor 
that  he  needs.     This  greatly  reduces  the  cost  of  pro- 
duction. 

The  effect  of  all  this  is  seen  in  the  very  low  price 
at  which  almost  all  the  articles  of  general  use  may  be 


POLITICAL   ECONOMY. 

obtained.  For  instance,  suppose  a  lady  in  New  York 
wanted  a  dozen  needles,  and  applied  to  a  jeweller  or 
other  workman  to  have  them  made  for  her,  she  could 
not  obtain  them  at  much  less  than  half  a  dollar  a-piece. 
But  needles  are  imported  into  that  city  from  a  British 
manufacturing  town,  and  sold  at  about  three  for  a  cent, 
notwithstanding  all  the  cost  of  transportation  ;  and  this 
entirely  through  the  advantage  derived  from  the  divis- 
ion of  labor. 

EXCHANGE. — We  have  thus  far  considered  produc- 
tion, and  the  means  by  which,  with  a  given  amount  of 
labor,  production  may  be  increased.  But  were  this 
all,  the  happiness  of  man  would  be  but  in  a  small  de- 
gree advanced.  Were  a  man  to  make  everything  for 
himself,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  have  nothing  but 
what  he  could  make  himself,  though  his  labor  were 
ever  so  productive,  he  would  enjoy  but  very  few  com- 
forts. Though  a  farmer,  instead  of  raising  a  hundred 
bushels  of  wheat,  could  raise  three  hundred  bushels, 
yet  if  he  did  not  need  for  his  own  consumption  more 
than  a  hundred,  and  could  not  procure  anything  else 
with  his  additional  two  hundred,  he  would  be  no  better 
off  than  before,  but  might  as  well  suffer  this  additional 
product  to  rot  upon  the  ground.  His  additional  labor 
would  bring  him  no  additional  advantage,  and  hence 
there  would  be  no  encouragement  to  labor.  But  as 
soon  as  he  is  able  to  exchange  this  two  hundred 
bushels  more  than  he  can  use  himself  for  some  other 
things  which  he  wants,  his  additional  labor  brings  with 
it  a  corresponding  reward  ;  and  additional  productive- 
ness of  labor  brings  with  it  additional  comforts  and 
conveniences.  Of  so  great  advantage  to  mankind  is 


POLITICAL   ECONOMY.  297 

exchange.  And  hence  it  will  be  seen  that  the  pros- 
perity of  a  country,  its  wealth,  and  its  industry,  are 
very  much  in  proportion  to  its  facilities  for  exchange. 
Thus  we  see  that  no  country  can  easily  grow  rich 
without  gxx)d  harbors  on  its  coast,  good  roads  or  canals 
in  its  interior  ;  and  that  its  advantages  are  greatly  in- 
creased when  it  is  so  fortunate  as  to  be  penetrated  in 
many  directions  by  navigable  rivers.  We  shall  now 
proceed  to  consider  the  nature  and  principal  laws  of 
exchange. 

Of  Circumstances  in  the  Human  Constitution  which 
render  Exchange  universally  necessary. — 1.  It  is  a 
well-known  fact  that  labor  is  necessary,  in  order  to  ren- 
der anything  valuable.  Everything  valuable  around  us 
will,  if  we  reflect,  be  seen  to  be  the  result  of  the  labor 
of  some  one.  And  we  have  also  seen,  that  he  who 
has  labored  has,  by  means  of  his  labor,  acquired  a  right 
to  the  value  which  he  has  created.  By  this  we  mean 
that  he  has  a  right  to  do  with  it  just  what  he  pleases. 

2.  It  is  also  the  fact,  that  every  man  seems  disposed 
to  pursue  some  one  kind  of  occupation  in  preference 
to  another.     One  man  chooses  to  be  a  sailor,  another  a 
farmer,  another  a  mechanic,  another  a  manufacturer, 
and  another  a  merchant.     And  we  also  see,  that  these 
different  men  seem  each  one  to  be  the  best  adapted  to 
that  kind  of  business  which  each  one  has  chosen.    And 
we  know  that,  by   the  principles  of  division  of  labor, 
there  will  be  a  much  larger  amount  of  product  created 
when  every  individual  has  a  separate  employment, 
than  when  every  man  is  obliged  to  divide  his  time 
between  a  dozen  employments. 

3.  But  while  every  man  is  thus  intended  to  labor 


293  POLITICAL   ECONOMY. 

at  one  particular  employment,  and  to  produce  one  par- 
ticular thing,  every  man  needs  for  his  comfort  and  con- 
venience a  thousand  things.  Now,  as  he  labors  to 
produce  only  one  of  these  thousand  things,  he  must 
procure  all  the  rest  by  exchange ;  hence,  in  order  to 
gratify  his  desires,  he  must  make  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  exchanges.  By  so  doing,  he  is  able,  by 
laboring,  to  produce  one  kind  of  value,  and  then  by 
exchange  to  supply  himself  with  every  kind  of  value 
that  he  wishes.  In  this  manner  men  are  rendered 
happier,  inasmuch  as  every  one  is  enabled  to  pursue 
the  occupation  that  he  likes  best,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
to  procure  whatever  he  needs  for  his  happiness.  And, 
moreover,  as  by  this  mode  labor  is  much  more  produc- 
tive, every  one  procures  a  much  larger  quantity  of 
what  he  desires  by  the  same  amount  of  labor. 

We  thus  see,  that  in  order  to  secure  our  physical 
happiness,  there  is  really  as  great  a  necessity  for 
exchange  as  there  is  for  production.  This  rule  applies 
equally  well  to  nations  as  to  individuals.  No  nation 
is  able  to  raise  within  itself  one-half  of  the  productions 
necessary  to  its  convenience.  It  may  have,  however, 
peculiar  advantages  for  producing  some  one  or  two 
articles  of  general  necessity.  These  are  commonly 
called  its  staples.  Now,  it  is  for  the  advantage  of  a 
nation,  as  well  as  of  an  individual,  to  devote  itself  to 
the  production  of  that  which  it  can  produce  in  the 
greatest  abundance  and  with  the  greatest  ease,  and 
then  to  procure  by  exchange  with  other  countries  those 
articles  which  it  needs,  but  which  they  produce  with 
greater  ease  and  in  greater  abundance.  The  benefits 
in  this  case  are  of  the  same  nature  as  in  the  other. 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  299 

Each  nation  labors  in  that  department  of  production 
that  it  chooses,  and  at  the  same  time,  by  so  doing,  it  is 
enabled,  in  greater  abundance,  to  avail  itself  of  the 
productions  of  every  other  country. 

DISTRIBUTION. — We  have  thus  far  considered  the 
mode  in  which  wealth  is,  in  the  first  instance,  pro- 
duced, and  in  which,  in  the  second  instance,  the  pro- 
ducers are  enabled  to  exchange  it  with  each  other. 

It  is,  however,  commonly  the  case  that  an  article  of 
production  is  not  the  result  of  the  labor  of  one  man 
alone,  but  of  several  men  united.  Thus,  several  men 
successively  unite  in  producing  a  barrel  of  flour.  One 
owns  the  land,  another  sows  the  seed,  another  reaps 
the  harvest,  another  owns  the  mill  in  which  it  is 
ground,  another  manages  the  mill  for  the  owner, 
another  makes  the  barrel  in  which  it  is  contained, 
another  transports  it  to  market,  and  another  sells  it  to 
the  consumer.  Now,  every  one  of  these  must  be  paid 
out  of  the  barrel  of  flour  when  it  is  purchased  by  the 
consumer ;  that  is,  the  price  of  the  flour  must  be  so 
distributed  among  them  all,  that  each  one  has  his  just 
share  of  the  proceeds.  The  principles  on  which  this  is 
to  be  done  are  considered  by  political  economists  under 
the  head  of  DISTRIBUTION. 

As  all  value  is  the  result  of  capital  and  industry,  it 
is  manifest  that  we  shall  comprehend  the  whole  sub- 
ject, if  we  treat  of  Wages,  or  the  price  of  labor,  and 
Interest,  or  the  price  of  capital. 

Of  Wages,  or  the  Price  of  Labor. — We  have 
already  seen  that  exchangeable  value  is  the  cost  of 
anything,  influenced  moreover  by  the  effect  of  supply 
and  demand.  We  shall  therefore  consider,  1st,  The 


300 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY. 


cost  of  labor ;  2dly,  The  effect  of  supply  and  demand 
upon  it. 

I.  Of  the  cost  of  labor. 

Of  simple  Labor. — By  simple  labor,  we  mean  that 
labor  which  may  be  performed  by  any  healthy  person 
without  any,  or  with  very  trifling,  previous  education. 

1.  But  it  is  evident  that  no  person  can  continue  in 
health  without  food,  clothing  and  shelter.    We  cannot, 
therefore,  procure  the  labor  of  any  living  thing  with- 
out furnishing  those  necessaries  which  are  required  for 
the  continuance  of  existence.     This  is  the  first  thing 
which  enters  into  the  cost  of  labor. 

2.  But,  besides  this,  human  beings  are  not  qualified 
to  labor  until  they  have  attained  several  years  of  age. 
During  the  period  of  infancy,  they  must  be  supported 
by  the  labor  of  others.     Were  they  not  so  supported, 
the  whole  race  of  man  would  in  a  few  years  perish. 
The  cost  of  labor  must  therefore  be  sufficient  to  sustain 
not  merely  the  parents  but  also  the  children.   And  yet 
more,  men  live  frequently  after  they  have  ceased  to  be 
capable  of  labor.     The  old  must  be  supported,  or  they 
will  perish.      Hence  the  wages  of  labor  should  be 
enough  to  enable  the  laborer  to  lay  up  something  to 
support  him  in  his  old  age,  or  else  the  wages  of  his 
children  should  be  sufficient  to  maintain  him  after  he 
has  become  unable  to  maintain  himself. 

3.  While,  however,  this  is  the  fact,  yet  it  may  be 
observed,  that  the  cost  of  labor,  or  the  remuneration 
necessary  to  accomplish  these  purposes,  will  vary  in 
different  climates.     In  warm  climates,  where  vegeta- 
ble food  is  principally  used,  and  where  very  little  ex- 
penditure is  required  either  for  fuel,  clothing,  or  shel- 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  301 

ter,  wages  would  naturally  be  lower  than  in  cold  cli- 
mates, where  the  expenditures  must  of  necessity  be  so 
much  greater.  This  is,  however,  equalized  by  the 
fact,  that  warm  climates  enervate  the  system  and  relax 
the  physical  energies,  so  that,  while  you  pay  a  very 
small  sum  for  a  day's  work,  you  receive  a  very  small 
amount  of  labor  in  return. 

Such  is  the  natural  cost  of  simple  laborr  and  it  will 
be  generally  found  that  by  this  rule  that  cost  is  prac- 
tically adjusted.  Whatever  may  be  the  condition  of 
the  country,  the  lowest  class  of  laborers  earns  but  sim- 
ply sufficient  to  procure  the  ordinary  necessaries  of 
life  for  the  parents  and  the  children. 

Of  educated  Labor. — But  for  most  of  the  occupations 
of  life  some  sort  of  education  is  required.  No  man 
can  be  a  carpenter,  or  a  blacksmith,  or  a  jeweller,  or  a 
physician,  or  a  lawyer,  or  a  clergyman,  without  being 
educated  for  the  particular  calling  which  he  intends  to 
pursue.  Now,  this  education  is  expensive.  It  costs 
both  time  and  money.  If  a  man  wish  to  practise  a 
trade  or  a  profession,  he  must  spend  several  years  in 
preparation  or  apprenticeship.  During  the  whole  of 
this  time  he  receives  no  wages,  and  frequently  is 
obliged  to  pay  for  tuition.  When  he  has  acquired  the 
necessary  skill,  he  is  able  to  perform  more  valuable 
labor  than  before,  and  he  is  entitled  to  a  higher  com- 
pensation. This  compensation  would  naturally  be 
adjusted  by  a  consideration  of  the  time  and  capital 
which  he  has  expended  in  his  education.  The 
longer  the  time  and  the  greater  the  expense  of  his 
training,  the  higher  ought  to  be  his  wages.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  the  wages  of  such  labor  must  be  always 


302  POLITICAL    ECONOMY. 

greater  than  those  of  simple  labor,  otherwise  it  will  not 
be  produced.  No  man  will  spend  money  in  educating 
his  son  for  a  calling  which  will  yield  him  no  higher 
wages  than  he  could  earn  without  any  education. 

Such  are  the  principles  by  which  the  cost  of  labor 
is  adjusted.  Wages  must  always  be  sufficient  to  sup- 
port the  laborer,  and  to  remunerate  him  for  the  expense 
which  must  be  incurred  in  acquiring  the  skill  neces- 
sary to  the  practice  of  his  profession. 

II.  Of  the  demand  for  labor. 

We  shall  consider  this  under  two  heads — 1st,  The 
demand  for  simple  labor ;  and  2dly,  The  demand  for 
educated  labor. 

1.  The  Demand  for  simple  labor,  or  that  which  is 
indispensable  to  the  production  of  the  ordinary  neces- 
saries of  life,  is  incessant  and  universal.  Every  man 
requires,  either  indirectly  or  directly,  the  labor  which 
is  employed  in  producing  the  ordinary  articles  of  con- 
sumption for  food,  clothing  and  shelter. 

But  in  order  to  render  this  labor  available,  it  must 
be  united  with  capital.  Neither  labor  nor  capital  can 
produce  anything  alone.  Hence  he  who  possesses 
capital  is  always  desirous  to  unite  it  with  labor,  and 
he  who  is  able  to  labor  is  always  desirous  to  unite  that 
labor  with  capital.  And  it  is  evident  that  the  larger 
the  amount  of  capital  which  a  man  possesses,  the  greater 
will  be  the  amount  of  labor  which  he  will  wish  to  pro- 
cure. He  who  cultivates  five  hundred  acres  of  land 
will  require  a  larger  number  of  workmen  than  he  who 
cultivates  but  fifty  acres.  The  iron  founder  who  wishes 
to  manufacture  five  hundred  tons  of  iron,  will  require 
a  greater  number  of  workmen  than  he  who  wishes  to 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  303 

manufacture  but  fifty  tons.  And  hence,  in  general, 
we  see  that  the  greater  the  amount  of  capital,  the 
greater  will  be  the  number  of  laborers  required,  that 
is,  the  greater  will  be  the  demand  for  labor. 

If  the  capital  of  a  country  be  too  great  for  the  num- 
ber of  laborers,  there  will  be  a  competition  between 
capitalists  for  labor.  They  will  overbid  each  other, 
and  thus  the  price  of  labor  will  rise.  Those  of  the 
first  class  will  be  insufficient  to  supply  the  demand  for 
laborers  of  this  class,  and  a  number  of  laborers  must 
therefore  be  taken  from  the  second  class.  And  thus, 
in  succession,  every  class  of  laborers  will  be  raised  one 
grade.  The  price  of  labor  will  thus  be  raised  through- 
out the  whole  community,  the  condition  of  the  people 
will  be  meliorated,  a  smaller  proportion  of  children 
will  die,  and  a  larger  number  of  laborers  will  be  reared. 
If  this  addition  do  not  supply  the  deficiency,  laborers 
will  emigrate  from  less  favored  countries,  where  the 
proportion  of  capital  to  labor  is  less. 

And,  on  the  contrary,  where  the  proportion  of  cap- 
ital to  labor  is  small,  there  will  be  a  larger  number  of 
persons  desirous  of  labor  than  can  find  employment. 
In  this  case  there  will  be  a  competition  among  laborers 
for  work.  They  will  underbid  each  other,  and  thus 
the  price  of  labor  will  fall.  The  case  mentioned  in 
the  last  paragraph  will  then  be  reversed  ;  the  condi- 
tion of  all  the  laborers  will  be  rendered  worse,  and 
many  will  either  emigrate  or  starve.  Many  children, 
and  weak  and  sickly  persons,  will  die  of  the  diseases 
consequent  upon  hardship  and  exposure.  In  this 
manner,  the  number  of  human  beings  will  be  reduced, 
until  the  supply  of  labor  is  adjusted  to  the  amount  of 


304  POLITICAL   ECONOMY. 

capital,  and  then  the  price  of  labor,  or  wages,  will  rise 
again. 

Of  the  Demand  for  Educated  Labor. — This  is 
substantially  dependent  upon  the  same  principles.  A 
community  needs  the  services  of  lawyers,  physicians, 
clergymen,  judges,  and  men  of  science.  Hence  there 
will  be  a  demand  for  these  services.  If  there  be  a 
greater  number  of  educated  laborers  than  is  required, 
the  price  of  the  wages  of  such  laborers  will  fall. 
Under  contrary  circumstances  it  will  rise.  When  the 
price  of  educated  labor  falls  so  low  as  not  to  remuner- 
ate the  laborer  for  his  skill  and  education,  the  supply 
•will  be  reduced  by  the  fact  that  men  will  turn  their 
attention  to  some  other  pursuit. 

The  demand  for  these  different  kinds  of  labor  varies 
with  the  condition  of  society.  The  rich  and  luxuri- 
ous have  greater  demand  for  medical  aid  than  the 
poor  and  abstemious.  The  progress  of  society  ren- 
ders titles  to  land  more  intricate,  and  exposes  men  to 
greater  danger  from  fraud.  Hence  the  greater  need 
qf  the  services  of  those  who  have  devoted  themselves 
to  the  study  of  the  laws,  and  who  are  therefore  quali- 
fied to  instruct  us  how  we  may  avail  ourselves  of  the 
benefit  of  law. 

III.  We  next  proceed  to  consider  the  supply  of  labor, 
both  simple  and  educated. 

The  amount  of  labor  in  any  country  depends  upon 
the  number  of  healthy  human  beings  inhabiting  it. 
Hence  the  supply  of  labor  will  depend  chiefly  upon 
those  conditions  by  which  the  increase  or  the  contin- 
uance of  human  life  is  affected.  Of  these  conditions, 
the  most  important  are  the  following : — 


POLITICAL   ECONOMY.  305 

1.  The  means  of  living  which,  may  be  commanded 
by  the  laborer.  Where  wages  are  low,  and  the 
means  of  living  are  with  difficulty  procured  by  the 
laboring  classes,  the  increase  of  population  will  be 
small,  nay,  population  may  become  stationary,  or  it 
may  even  decrease.  When  a  family,  with  its  utmost 
labor,  in  health,  can  hardly  provide  the  means  of  sub- 
sistence, they  must  all  suffer  greatly  in  sickness.  In 
such  cases,  parents  or  children  very  frequently  die 
from  the  want  of  common  conveniences  or  attentions. 
And  as  sickness  is  a  calamity  common  to  all  men, 
under  such  circumstances  large  numbers  of  the  poor 
must  perish.  For  this  reason,  epidemic  diseases, 
especially  those  of  children,  are  much  more  fatal 
among  the  poor  than  among  the  rich.  In  countries 
where  the  wages  of  the  poor  are  very  low,  it  is  not 
uncommon  to  find  parents,  who  have  had  large  fami- 
lies, almost  childless.  On  the  contrary,  just  in  pro- 
portion as  the  laboring  classes  are  enabled  to  provide 
themselves  with  all  the  conveniences  of  living,  will 
the  number  of  children  who  are  reared  be  increased. 

And  besides,  laborers  will  readily  emigrate  from 
other  less  favored  countries  to  that  in  which  the  con- 
dition of  the  laboring  classes  is  happy  and  prosperous. 
In  this  manner,  population  will  always  flow  from  old 
to  new  countries,  and  from  regions  where  labor  is 
poorly  repaid  to  those  in  which  it  receives  a  more 
generous  remuneration.  Both  of  these  circumstances 
tend,  at  present,  to  increase  the  population  of  the 
United  States.  There  the  wages  of  labor  are  high, 
and  the  means  of  living  abundant.  Those  who  are 
willing  to  labor  can  always  command  the  necessaries, 


306  POLITICAL   ECONOMY. 

and  frequently  the  conveniences  of  life,  both  for  them- 
selves and  for  their  families.  Hence  a  much  smaller 
proportion  of  children  die  there  than  in  older  coun- 
tries, and  of  course,  the  population  is  much  more  rap- 
idly augmented.  And,  from  the  same  cause,  namely, 
the  high  price  of  labor,  there  is  annually  a  prodigious 
amount  of  emigration  thither  from  the  older  countries 
of  Europe. 

2.  The  next  condition  necessary  to  the  rapid  increase 
of  population,  is  the  moral  condition  of  a  people. 
Vice  is  always  awfully  expensive,  and  terribly  desola- 
ting to  human  life.  It  matters  not  how  great  be  the 
wages  of  the  laborer;  if  those  wages  be  spent  in 
intemperance  and  profligacy,  his  family  will  starve. 
In  some  countries,  such  as  the  United  States,  almost 
all  the  sufferings  of  children  is  the  consequence  of  the 
vice  of  one  or  of  both  of  their  parents. 

On  these  two  circumstances,  therefore — the  wages 
of  the  laborer  and  his  own  personal  moral  habits — does 
the  increase  of  population  chiefly  depend.  And,  as 
we  have  before  stated,  the  supply  of  laborers  is  as 
the  increase  of  population. 

The  same  principles  in  the  main  govern  the  supply 
of  educated  labor.  If  the  wages  of  such  labor  are 
sufficient  to  pay  for  the  expenditure  of  time  and  capi- 
tal necessary  to  the  acquisition  of  the  education,  such 
labor  will  be  produced ;  that  is,  men  will  turn  their 
time  and  talents  in  this  direction.  On  the  contrary, 
when  the  remuneration  of  such  labor  is  inadequate, 
men  will  not  prepare  themselves  to  perform  it,  and 
those  already  educated  will  devote  themselves  to  some 
other  occupation.  Tire  supply  will  thus  be  reduced 
so  as  to  correspond  with  the  demand. 


POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  307 

OF  THE  PRICE  OF  MOXEY,  OK  INTEREST. — The  first 
question  which  arrests  our  attention  in  the  considera- 
tion of  this  subject,  is  the  following : — Why  should 
the  use  of  money  have  any  price  at  all  ?  As  I  return 
to  a  man  the  same  value  which  I  borrow  of  him,  why 
should  I  pay  him  anything  for  having  kept  it  during 
the  interval  ?  This  question  we  shall  first  attempt  to 
answer. 

Every  man  who  labors  at  any  regular  employment, 
possesses  two  qualities  which  render  his  services  of 
value — these  are  strength  and  skill.  The  first  ena- 
bles him  to  execute  simple  labor,  or  labor  of  the  cheap- 
est kind;  the  second,  when  united  with  it,  enables 
him  to  execute  educated  or  higher  priced  labor.  But, 
in  order  to  perform  the  latter,  he  requires  tools  and 
materials,  that  is,  capital.  Without  these,  he  could 
perform  only  simple  labor.  Of  what  use  would  be 
the  skill  of  the  blacksmith,  without  a  forge  and  iron  ? 
or  that  of  the  carpenter,  without  tools  and  wood ;  or 
that  of  the  spinner,  without  a  spinning-jenny  and  raw 
cotton  ?  Without  these,  they  would  be  all  reduced  to 
the  necessity  of  that  labor  which  could  be  performed 
with  their  naked  hands. 

Suppose  now  that  I  am  a  blacksmith,  and  own  a 
forge,  tools,  and  iron,  with  which  I  am  daily  employed, 
and  thus  earn  the  wages  both  of  labor  and  skill. 
Were  I  to  lend  them  to  another  man  for  a  week,  and 
earn,*  a  hod  during  the  mean  time  instead  of  working 
at  my  trade,  and  thus  lose  the  profit  of  my  skill,  he 
who  thus  borrows  them  of  me  should  surely  remuner- 
ate me  for  the  use  of  them.  Suppose  he  borrow  them 
for  a  year,  he  should  pay  me  for  the  same  rea- 


308  POLITICAL   ECONOMY. 

son.  And  if  I  have  the  money  with  which  he  can 
purchase  them  for  himself,  and  I  lend  it  to  him,  he 
should  pay  me  just  as  truly  for  the  money  as  for  the 
tools  and  capital,  because  if  I  had  not  lent  it  to  him  I 
could  have  established  another  forge,  which  I  could 
have  made  profitable  to  myself. 

And  here  we  may  remark,  in  general,  that  when  we 
speak  of  the  loan  of  money,  it  is  in  reality  not  money 
but  other  capital  that  is  wanted,  and  for  which  we  pay 
interest.  Were  a  tradesman  to  keep  the  money  which 
he  borrows  locked  up  in  his  drawer,  it  would  be  worth 
nothing  to  him.  It  can  be  only  of  use  when  it  is 
exchanged  for  something  else,  which,  being  united 
with  labor,  will  yield  a  profit.  The  fact  is,  that  every 
one,  as  soon  as  he  procures  money,  exchanges  it  for 
tools,  or  materials,  or  merchandise.  Every  one  sees 
that  these  ought  to  pay  interest,  because  they  are  the 
means  of  accumulation.  Just  as  much  should  the 
money  pay  interest  which  is  exchanged  for  them,  and 
for  which  the  owner  of  the  money  would  have 
exchanged  them,  if  he  had  not  lent  it  to  another. 

Now,  it  very  frequently  happens  that  the  ability  to 
labor  is  possessed  by  men  who  have  no  capital  upon 
which  to  employ  it.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  capital 
is  frequently  possessed  by  men  who  have  neither  the 
skill  nor  the  ability  to  labor.  In  such  a  case,  it  is 
manifestly  for  the  interest  of  both  parties  to  form  a 
copartnership,  the  one  party  furnishing  the  labor  and 
skill,  and  the  other  furnishing  the  capital.  By  this 
means  both  parties  are  benefited.  The  laborer  earns 
the  wages  of  labor  and  skill,  instead  of  those  of  simple 
labor ;  the  capitalist  derives  an  income  from  his  pro- 


*  POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  309 

perty  without  diminishing  it,  instead  of  being  obliged 
to  live  upon  the  principal.  f 

Now  this  takes  place  in  two  ways,  both  the  same  in 
principle,  although  the  mode  in  which  the  arrangement 
is  made  is  dissimilar. 

The  first  is  the  case  of  wages.  Here  there  is  vir- 
tually a  partnership  formed  between  the  capitalist  and 
the  laborer.  The  one  furnishes  the  tools  and  the 
material,  and  takes  all  the  risks  of  the  operation,  and 
divides  with  the  laborer  the  profits,  which  he  pays  in 
the  form  of  wages.  These  are  generally  agreed  upon 
at  the  commencement  between  the  parties,  and  are  the 
same  whether  the  operation  be  profitable  or  unprofita- 
ble. This,  however,  is  not  always  the  case.  In  the 
whale-fishery,  the  crew  of  a  vessel  receive  a  pro  rata 
proportion  of  the  profits,  in  the  place  of  regular  wages, 
and  of  course  their  remuneration  is  greater  or  less 
according  to  the  success  of  the  voyage. 

The  second  case  is  that  in  which  the  laborer 
assumes  the  risk,  receives  all  the  profit  himself,  and 
borrows  his  capital  from  the  other,  agreeing  to  pay 
him  at  a  stated  rate  for  the  use  of  it.  This  is  com- 
monly the  case  in  the  borrowing  and  lending  of  money. 
If  I  purchase  a  shop  and  stock  it  with  goods,  and  em- 
ploy another  to  keep  it  for  me,  paying  him  the  custom- 
ary wages,  I  act  in  the  first-mentioned  manner.  If  I 
lend  him  the  money  by  which  he  purchases  the  shop 
and  stock,  and  he  trades  on  his  own  risk,  paying  me 
interest  on  the  amount  borrowed,  I  act  in  the  second 
manner. 

It  is  the  latter  case  that  is  to  be  considered  in  this 
place.  Here  the  borrower  uses  the  capital  of  the 


310  POLITICAL    ECONOMY.  < 

lender  for  his  own  advantage,  and  that  advantage  is 
^qual  to  the  difference  between  simple  labor  and  labor 
united  with  skill.  Did  he  not  thus  employ  his  capital, 
the  lender  would  employ  it  himself.  It  is  therefore 
just  that  he  should  pay  for  the  advantage  which  he 
gains,  and  of  which  he,  by  thus  gaining  it,  deprives 
the  owner. 

OF  THE  PRICE  OF  LAND,  OR  RENT. — We  may  here 
remark  that  stocks,  or  in  general,  any  other  invest- 
ments, will  bring  a  price  in  the  market  in  proportion 
to  the  annual  interest  which  may  be  derived  from  them. 
A  stock,  let  it  have  cost  what  it  may,  which  pro- 
duces six  dollars  a  year,  if  six  per  cent,  be  the  regular 
rate  of  interest,  pays  the  interest  of  a  hundred  dollars, 
and  it  will  sell  for  a  hundred  dollars.  If  it  yield  twelve 
dollars,  it  will  sell  for  two  hundred  dollars,  and  so  in 
any  other  proportion. 

Now,  the  same  remark  applies  to  the  rent  of  land. 
If  an  acre  of  land,  after  paying  the  ordinary  expendi- 
ture for  tillage  and  carrying  the  produce  to  market, 
will  yield  eighteen  dollars  profit,  it  will  sell  for  three 
hundred  dollars,  supposing  the  rate  of  interest  to  be 
at  six  per  cent.  If  the  profit  that  may  be  derived  from 
it  be  more,  it  will  sell  for  more ;  if  less,  it  will  sell  for 
less.  And  the  same  principle  applies  to  land,  whether 
it  be  used  for  tillage  or  for  dwelling-houses. 

CONSUMPTION. — OF  THE  NATURE  AND  DESIGN  OF 
CONSUMPTION. — We  have  thus  far  endeavored  to  show 
in  what  manner  the  various  objects  for  the  gratifica- 
tion of  desire  are  produced,  in  what  manner  they  are 
exchanged  among  the  producers,  and  in  what  manner 
the  share  to  which  each  one  of  the  producers  is  en- 
titled, is  distributed  to  each  of  them. 


POLITICAL   ECONOMY.  311 

But  we  know  that  all  this  is  done  with  reference  to 
another  object.  Everything  that  is  of  any  value  is 
designed  to  be  used,  and  after  it  is  thoroughly  used, 
or,  in  familiar  language,  used  up,  it  is  worthless.  All 
these  previous  operations  only  prepare  the  way  for 
consumption,  and  it  is  consumption  that  creates  the 
necessity  for  their  being  incessantly  repeated. 

Consumption  is  the  reverse  of  production.  Pro- 
duction is  the  act  by  which  we  confer  value.  Con- 
sumption is  the  act  by  which  we  destroy  the  value 
which  has  been  thus  conferred.  When  we  speak  of 
the  destruction  of  value,  we  do  not  mean  that  the  mate- 
rial itself  is  destroyed,  but  only  that  the  form  in  which 
a  particular  value  resided  has  been  changed,  and  that 
hence  that  particular  kind  of  value  is  annihilated. 
Thus,  if  a  load  of  wood  be  burned,  its  power  of  creat- 
ing heat  is  destroyed  forever. 

It  seems  to  be  a  law  of  nature,  that  we  cannot  create 
one  value  without  destroying  another.  He  who  chops 
down  a  tree  and  saws  it  into  boards,  destroys  forever 
the  value  of  the  tree  as  a  tree.  It  can  never  more 
give  shade  to  the  traveller  or  gratify  the  taste  of  the 
tourist.  He  who  butchers  an  ox  for  beef  destroys  for- 
ever the  utility  of  the  animal  as  a  beast  of  draught. 
If  we  eat  an  apple,  we  annihilate  forever  the  quality 
in  the  apple  of  giving  pleasure  to  any  other  being. 
And  thus,  in  general,  consumption  is  a  sort  of  ex- 
change, in  which  we  surrender  one  value  for  the  sake 
either  of  creating  another  value,  or  else  for  the  sake 
of  gratifying  some  desire,  which  we  consider  of  more 
importance  than  the  existence  of  the  value  which  we 
annihilate. 


EVERY-DAY  PHILOSOPHY. 

PROVERBS  or  Aphorisms  are  short,  pithy  sentences, 
each  containing  some  striking  truth.  These  are  col- 
lected from  the  Bible,  and  the  sayings,  either  written 
or  spoken,  of  men  of  genius.  Shakspeare  and  Ba- 
con are  the  sources  from  which  many  of  our  current 
English  adages  are  taken. 

Proverbs  have  been  in  use  from  the  earliest  ages, 
and  are  common  among  all  civilized  nations.  They 
are  convenient  in  the  common  intercourse  of  society, 
and  often  operate  in  the  journey  of  life  like  lamps  at 
night,  set  along  the  streets  of  a  city.  They  serve  to  give 
point  and  force  to  conversation,  and  to  settle  a  thou- 
sand questions  of  duty  and  prudence,  that  arise  amid 
the  business  and  bustle  of  an  active  career. 

We  need,  therefore,  offer  no  apology  for  presenting 
to  the  reader  a  selection  from  the  store-house  of  human 
wisdom,  which  has  been  accumulating  for  ages,  and 
which  we  find  contained  in  a  body  of  English  and 
Scotch  proverbs.  Many  of  them  are,  doubtless,  bor- 
rowed from  other  nations,  and  it  is  probable  that  there 
are  few  significant  aphorisms,  current  among  any  peo- 
ple, which  have  not  their  resemblance  and  equivalent 
among  our  own  adages. 

A  bad  workman  quarrels  with  his  tools. 
A  begun  turn  is  half  ended. 


EVERY-DAY    PHILOSOPHY.  313 

A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush. 

A  bit  is  often  better  given  than  eaten. 

A  burden  which  one  chooses  is  not  felt. 

A  clear  conscience  fears  no  accusation. 

A  contented  mind  is  a  continual  feast. 

A  drowning  man  will  catch  at  a  straw. 

Adversity  flattereth  no  man. 

A  fault  confessed  is  half  redressed. 

A  fool  and  his  money  are  soon  parted. 

A  fool  can  make  money ;  it  requires  a  wise  man  to 
spend  it. 

A  friend  in  need  is  a  friend  indeed. 

A  good  layer  up  is  a  good  layer  out. 

A  good  maxim  is  never  out  of  season. 

A  good  name  keeps  its  lustre  in  the  dark. 

A  good  servant  makes  a  good  master. 

A  good  word  is  as  soon  said  as  an  ill  one. 

A  guilty  conscience  needs  no  accuser. 

A  little  body  doth  often  harbor  a  great  soul. 

A  little  leak  will  sink  a  great  ship. 

All  are  not  friends  that  speak  us  fair. 

All  are  not  hunters  that  blow  the  horn. 

All  is  not  gold  that  glitters. 

All  lay  load  on  the  willing  horse. 

A  man  of  understanding  holdeth  his  peace. 

A  man  must  ask  his  wife  leave  to  thrive. 

A  merry  heart  doth  good  like  medicine ;  but  a  bro- 
ken spirit  drieth  the  bones. 

An  honest  man's  word  's  as  good  as  his  bond. 

An  hour  in  the  morning  is  worth  two  in  the  afternoon. 

An  oak  is  not  felled  with  one  blow. 

An  obedient  wife  commands  her  husband. 


314  EVERY-DAY    PHILOSOPHY. 

A  penny  saved  is  a  penny  earned. 

A  pin  a  day  is  a  groat  a  year. 

A  quiet  conscience  sleeps  in  thunder. 

A  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss. 

A  rotten  sheep  affects  the  whole  flock. 

A  single  fact  is  worth  a  ship-load  of  argument. 

A  small  pack  becomes  a  small  pedlar. 

A  small  spark  makes  a  great  fire. 

A  smart  reproof  is  better  than  smooth  deceit. 

A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath  j  but  grievous 
words  stir  up  anger. 

As  the  old  cock  crows,  the  young  cock  learns. 

A  stitch  in  time  saves  nine. 

As  welcome  as  flowers  in  May. 

As  you  sow,  so  you  shall  reap. 

A  tale  never  loses  in  the  telling. 

A  tree  is  known  by  its  fruit. 

Auld  sparrows  are  ill  to  tame. 

A  wilful  man  will  have  his  way. 

A  willing  mind  makes  a  light  foot. 

Be  a  friend  to  yourself  and  others  will. 

Before  thou  marry,  be  sure  of  a  house  wherein  to 
tarry. 

Beggars  have  no  right  to  be  choosers. 

Be  slow  to  promise  and  quick  to  perform. 

Better  a  wee  fire  to  warm  you,  than  a  big  fire  to 
burn  you. 

Better  do  it  than  wish  it  done. 

Better  is  a  dinner  of  herbs,  where  love  is,  than  a 
stalled  ox,  and  hatred  therewith. 

Better  ride  on  an  ass  that  carries  me,  than  a  horse 
that  throws  me. 


EVERY-DAY    PHILOSOPHY.  315 

Better  sma'  fish  than  nane. 

Better  to  be  alone  than  in  bad  company.          . 

Birds  of  a  feather  flock  together. 

Birth  is  much,  but  breeding  is  more. 

Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow ;  for  thou  knowest 
not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth. 

Borrowed  garments  never  fit  well. 

Burnt  bairns  dread  the  fire. 

By  others'  faults,  wise  men  correct  their  own. 

By  pride  cometh  contention. 

Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  for  thou  shall  find 
it  after  many  days. 

Catch  not  at  the  shadow,  and  lose  the  substance. 

Catch  the  bear  before  you  sell  his  skin. 

Change  of  fortune  is  the  lot  of  life. 

Charity  begins  at  home,  but  does  not  end  there. 

Climb  not  too  high,  lest  the  fall  be  greater. 

Confession  of  a  fault  makes  half  amends  for  it. 

Conscience  is  the  chamber  of  justice. 

Constant  occupation  prevents  temptation. 

Content  is  the  true  philosopher's  stone. 

Contentment  to  the  mind  is  as  light  to  the  eye. 

Craft  bringeth  nothing  home. 

Cut  your  coat  according  to  your  cloth. 

Daylight  will  peep  through  a  small  hole. 

Death  is  deaf,  and  hears  no  denial. 

Deeds  are  fruits — words  are  but  leaves. 

Deep  rivers  move  with  silent  majesty;  shallow 
brooks  are  noisy. 

Defer  not  till  evening  what  the  morning  may  ac- 
complish. 

Delays  are  dangerous. 


316  EVERY-DAY    PHILOSOPHY. 

Deliberate  slowly — execute  promptly. 

Depend  not  on  fortune,  but  on  conduct. 

Desires  are  nourished  by  delays. 

Deserve  success  and  you  shall  command  it. 

Despise  none — despair  of  none. 

Diligence  is  the  mistress  of  success. 

Dogs  bark  as  they  are  bred. 

Do  not  halloo  till  you  are  out  of  the  wood. 

Do  not  spur  a  free  horse. 

Do  not  touch  him  on  the  sair  heel. 

Don't  measure  other  people's  corn  by  your  bushel. 

Don't  run  away  with  more  than  you  can  carry. 

Do  weel  an'  doubt  nae  man,  do  ill  an'  doubt  a'  men. 

Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise,  makes  a  man  healthy, 
wealthy  and  wise. 

Early  birds  catch  the  worms. 

Easy  working  when  will 's  at  hame. 

Eat  what  you  like,  but  pocket  nothing. 

Empty  vessels  make  the  greatest  sound. 

Enough  is  as  good  as  a  feast. 

Envy  ne'er  does  a  gude  turn,  but  when  it  means 
an  ill  ane. 

Everything  is  the  worse  for  wearing. 

Every  man's  tale  's  gude,  till  anither  's  tauld. 

Example  teaches  more  than  precept. 

Experience  is  the  mother  of  science. 

Fall  not  out  with  a  friend  for  a  trifle. 

False  friends  are  worse  than  open  enemies. 

Fear  God  and  keep  his  commandments ;  for  this  is 
the  whole  duty  of  man. 

First  deserve  and  then  desire. 

Forgive  any  sooner  than  thyself. 


EVERY-DAY   PHILOSOPHY.  317 

Get  thy  spindle  and  distaff  ready  and  God  will  send 
the  flax. 

Good  words  cost  nothing,  but  are  worth  much. 

God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb. 

Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard ;  consider  her  ways 
and  be  wise. 

Gude  health  is  better  than  wealth. 

Half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread. 

Handsome  is  that  handsome  does. 

Happy  is  he  who  knows  his  follies  in  his  youth. 

He  doubles  his  gift  who  gives  in  time. 

Help  the  lame  dog  over  the  style. 

He  loseth  his  thanks,  who  promises  and  delayeth. 

He  loseth  nothing  that  keeps  God  for  his  friend. 

He  must  stoop-low  that  hath  a  low  door. 

He  's  a  hawk  of  a  right  nest. 

He  that  always  complains  is  never  pitied. 

He  that  blows  in  the  dust,  fills  his  eyes. 

He  that  cheats  me  ance,  shame  fa'  him ;  if  he  cheat 
me  twice,  shame  fa'  me. 

He  that  does  you  an  ill  turn  will  ne'er  forgie  you. 

He  that  has  no  silver  in  his  purse  should  have  sil- 
ver on  his  tongue. 

He  that  is  of  a  merry  heart  hath  a  continual  feast. 

He  that  is  warm  thinks  all  are  so. 

He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  the  mighty, 
and  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit  than  he  that  taketh  a  city. 

He  who  knows  himself  best  esteems  himself  least. 

He  who  rises  late  never  does  a  good  day's  work. 

He  who  runs  after  a  shadow  has  a  wearisome  race. 

He  who  would  catch  fish  must  not  mind  getting  wet. 

He  who  would  reap  well  must  sow  well. 


318  EVERY-DAY   PHILOSOPHY. 

Idle  folks  have  the  least  leisure. 

Idleness  is  the  parent  of  want  and  shame. 

If  sinners  entice  thee,  consent  thou  not. 

If  things  were  to  be  done  twice,  all  would  be  wise. 

If  thou  faint  in  the  day  of  adversity  thy  strength  is 
small. 

I  have  lived  too  near  a  wood  to  be  frightened  by 
owls. 

In  a  calm  sea  every  man  is  a  pilot. 

In  vain  he  craves  advice  that  will  not  follow  it. 

Inconstancy  is  the  attendant  of  a  weak  mind. 

It  costs  more  to  revenge  injuries  than  to  bear  them. 

It  is  better  to  do  well  than  to  say  well. 

It  is  never  too  late  to  learn. 

It  maun  be  true  what  a'  folks  say. 

It 's  well  that  our  faults  are  not  written  in  our  face. 

Keep  no  more  cats  than  will  catch  mice. 

Keep  your  mouth  shut  and  your  eyes  open. 

Law  makers  should  not  be  law  breakers. 

Least  said  is  soonest  mended. 

Let  another  man  praise  thee,  and  not  thine  own 
mouth. 

Let  byganes  be  byganes. 

Let  every  pedlar  carry  his  own  burden. 

Lips  however  rosy  must  be  fed. 

Little  and  often  fills  the  purse. 

Little  boats  must  keep  near  shore. 

Little  wit  in  the  head  makes  mickle  travel  to  the 
feet. 

Lock  your  door  that  you  may  keep  your  neighbors 
honest. 

Look  twice  ere  you  determine  once. 


EVERY-DAY    PHILOSOPHY.  319 

Lookers  on  see  more  than  the  players. 

Love  not  sleep  lest  thou  come  to  poverty ;  open 
thine  eyes,  and  thou  shalt  be  satisfied  with  bread. 

Make  hay  while  the  sun  shines. 

Make  not  your  sail  too  large  for  your  ship. 

Make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain. 

Man  doth  what  he  can,  and  God  what  he  will. 

Manners  often  make  fortunes. 

Mischiefs  come  by  the  pound,  and  go  away  by  the 
ounce. 

Many  an  honest  man  needs  help  that  has  not  the 
face  to  seek  it. 

Ne'er  speak  ill  of  those  whose  bread  ye  eat. 

Ne'er  show  your  teeth  unless  ye  can  bite. 

Never  look  a  gift  horse  in  the  mouth. 

Never  make  a  mountain  of  a  mole  hill. 

Never  ride  a  free  horse  to  death. 

Never  sound  the  trumpet  of  your  own  praise. 

Of  a'  flatterers,  self-love 's  the  greatest. 

Of  two  evils,  choose  the  least. 

One  half  the  world  knows  not  how  the  other  half 
lives. 

One  man  may  steal  a  horse  when  another  may  not 
look  over  a  hedge. 

One  man's  meat  is  another's  poison. 

Praise  a  fair  day  at  night. 

Pride  goeth  before  destruction,  and  a  haughty  spirit 
before  a  fall. 

Rome  was  not  built  in  a  day. 

Saying  and  doing  are  two  things. 

She 's  better  than  she 's  bonny. 

Sit  in  your  place  and  none  will  make  you  rise. 


320  EVERY-DAY   PHILOSOPHY. 

Strike  while  the  iron  is  hot. 

Strive  not  with  a  man  without  cause,  if  he  hath 
done  thee  no  harm. 

Take  the  will  for  the  deed. 

Tell  me  the  company  you  keep,  and  I'll  tell  you 
what  you  are. 

The  book  o'  maybe's  is  very  braid. 

The  highest  branch  is  not  the  safest  roost. 

The  last  drop  makes  the  cup  run  over. 

The  longest  day  must  have  an  end. 

The  more  noble,  the  more  humble. 

The  more  the  merrier,  the  fewer  the  better  cheer. 

The  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the 
strong. 

The  wicked  fleeth  when  no  man  pursueth  ;  but  the 
righteous  are  bold  as  a  lion. 

Time  is  a  file  that  wears  and  makes  no  noise. 

To  err  is  human  ;  to  forgive  is  divine. 

Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when 
he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it. 

When  pride  cometh,  then  cometh  shame  ;  but  with 
the  lowly  is  wisdom. 

When  sorrow  is  asleep,  wake  it  not. 

Write  injuries  in  dust,  but  kindnesses  in  marble. 

Ye  're  bonny  eneugh  to  them  that  lo'e  ye,  and  owre 
bonny  to  them  that  lo'e  ye  and  canna  get  ye. 

You  cannot  catch  old  birds  with  chaff. 

You  are  busy  as  a  hen  with  one  chick. 

Your  head  will  never  fill  your  father's  bonnet. 

Your  tongue  runs  aye  before  your  wit. 

THE    END. 


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